The Vermont Primogen Part One
by NateSean
Summary: A Tremere's deception may lead to a war among the Vermont clans. title and genre change
1. Playing the Devil's Advocate

Note: My knowledge of the Masquerade is limited to the episodes of Kindred, and the Gangrel Clan Book. I also would like to thank ROGsvgirl, author of Diaries of a Firebird: Embraced for basically a truly awesome fanfiction. Her story about the love between Cash and Charlie (From Firestarter and Firestarter:Rekindled) is where I draw the biggest inspiration for this story.

Also, to those of my friends who may read this story, I hope you don't think any different of me when you've read this. I know it's not what you've come to expect from me.

This story is loosely based on my own character. A former Kindred Slayer turned Gangrel. I'll have a background story for him soon.

The Primogen's Love

Chapter One: Playing the Devil's Advocate

At first he imagined time passing quickly for immortals. When he was on "the other side" so to speak, he had to admit a fascination with the idea of living forever. Seeing the things one could see in a hundred years, experiencing the changes in history and knowing the people who could become great.

But the corollary of all that was a life of damnation to the shadows, never again meant to walk among men, because he was no longer a man. In fact, he was never really a man to begin with.

Sean's sire, James Reed was sixteen when he was Embraced. And it was James who came across Sean while he was entangled in a fierce battle with a young Anarch. Till that point there had been a price on Sean's head. The law was clear throughout the Masquerade, even in the New England region: Kindred Hunters must die. But James knew Sean well. Sean's hatred for the Kindred came when his friend was murdered by crossfire in a fight with the Brujah and the Gangrel.

The Kindred responsible were sentenced to the Final Death, for endangering the Masquerade in the state of Vermont. But Sean's hatred remained so strong, that even a visit by James, then Primogen of the Gangrel Clan of Vermont couldn't force him to forget.

Sean killed many vampires up and down the New England area. They were mostly Anarchs and natural rebels that were about to be killed anyway. Most of the experienced Kindred had the sense to hide and keep their childer out of harms way. Until his Embrace, Sean was little real threat to Kindred or the Masquerade itself. In fact, when James brought his request to Embrace the young hunter before a meeting of the New England council, the only votes against came from the Brujah, Tzimisce, and the Malkavians.

Five years passed since Sean's first meeting with James. He spent his First Torment with a stake in his hand, and the body of the Anarch he slew, bleeding nearby. His first meal came from the blood of that Anarch, and thus he was forcibly thrown into the world of the Kindred.

His first days as a vampire were spent dangling in a cage from the cavern walls of his Prince's home; A Nosferatu named Zarius. Since that time five years ago, Sean had discovered many things. One,that his friend was not dead, but in fact a childe of the Toreador. In fact, many people he had known in his life were now Kindred, despite the strict rules against embracing children. He spent his unlife training to be an enforcer, a slayer of the renegades who refused to conform to Kindred law.

For only the millionth time in his unlife, Sean contemplated many things. How he was able to accept that he would be sixteen forever. He thought about the irony of being a vampire, and yet he still slew vampires just as he did as a mortal. He recalled the long nights under Zarius' roof, hanging there, feeling the harsh pain of blood thirst like a vice grip on his organs. He remembered the implicit trust Zarius placed in him when he was finally released, and given back his silver knife with the daemon-winged handle.

Time passed quickly since then. Seven years of living on"the other side" as Zarius enforcer brought many strange experiences. James taught him how to use the powers and abilities inherent to all vampires, and the unique gifts privy only to the Gangrel Clan. Sean mediated territorial disputes, played messenger between the Princes of New England, and confronted and dealt with any and all threats to Kindred living in Vermont. Sean even gained permission to Embrace on three occasions, and their contributions to the continuation of the Masquerade were phenomenal.

But as with mortals, time did slow down. And after seven years of unlife, only two of which had been spent as the Gangrel's new primogen, life was becoming tedious.

"This is an outrage!" The Tremere representative shouted, slamming his fists into the table.

Mary tensed slightly and glanced at Sean. Sean smiled and shook his head. There was no danger yet.

"Calm yourself Benjamin," Zarius said, gently. "The sentence still hasn't been carried out. But the Tremere neonates have jeopardized the Masquerade by appearing at the Wiccan ceremony in Barre and displaying their abilities freely. By law I have to punish them."

"Our Prince has made a generous offering for their return," Benjamin argued.

"Considering this is the fifth time this has happened I'm not surprised," Sean spoke up. "But the Prince can't abridge Kindred law and expect to buy his way out of it."

Benjamin glowered angrily at Sean.

"Kindred law also states that children must never be Embraced…particularly known Kindred slayers." He added. "Zarius has conveniently abridged that law."

"Benjamin, you're out of line." Zarius raised his voice slightly. "Mr. Gardener was Embraced by my consent and the consent of the council. But he has conducted himself according to our laws, protecting the Masquerade. The Tremere childer crossed into my territory and violated my rules. But I will leave their fate in the hands of my primogen, as this is their home as well. " Zarius turned to his council which consisted of nine members. The seating was arranged according each clan's presence in Vermont. "The standard punishment for endangering the Masquerade is Final Death. Are you in favor or against?"

"Sean?"

"On behalf of the Gangrel, I vote against. They were out of line, but they didn't resist when I apprehended them and there was no loss of life. The Wiccans aren't likely to chalk up what they saw to much more than mysticism."

"Mary?"

Like Sean, the Ventrue primogen was new to her duties, though a much more recent addition. But the half century of unlife reflected as she straightened up and looked confidently at Zarius. "I too vote against. There is nothing to be gained by killing off neonates."

"Eric?"

Eric Peterson was the Toreador primogen. In the mortal world he was known for directing and writing many plays, and owning the Old Castle theater company located in Bennington. He also co-taught Theater Arts in many high schools and at the community college. "I vote in favor. Age doesn't excuse them from obeying the law."

"Bastian?"

"In favor," The Brujah responded. "I agree with Mr. Peterson."

"Amanda?"

Amanda, the Tremere primogen, was another of Sean's friends, who had also been Embraced around his age. But she had been Kindred for as long as Mary. Unlike Mary, however, Amanda was fully comfortable with her position as Primogen, and didn't see the need to justify her decisions like the others.

"Against."

Bastian exchanged looks with Eric that seemed to say, "figures". Benjamin seemed relieved, as if there weren't five other primogen to vote either for or against.

"Tanith?"

The Malkavian blinked twice to indicate her vote against. She never spoke at meetings, and her hair was a mess and her disheveled clothes looked like they belonged to a rehab patient. One would hardly think her the primogen of her clan at a first glance. But her clan trusted her, and while she was typically unstable during her off hours, she did her job well.

"Allan?"

The Assamite shrugged.

"It doesn't hurt my clan one way or the other. A conflict only means something for us to do and we are kind of bored…I personally vote in favor."

Benjamin rose from his chair angrily.

"If you want conflict I'll gladly give it to you, but leave our progeny out of your petty bloodlust."

Sean stood up, ready to run interference.

"Enough!" Zarius growled. His eyes took on a fiery glow. "If there are anymore outbursts, the matter will be settled as it stands. Edgar?"

The Tzimicse replied, "Against."

"And Christopher."

The final vote fell with the Lasomba. Christopher was over three hundred years old, and a known member of the Sabbat. In seven years the only time Sean had ever seen him was at the council meetings. But he knew one thing: If embracing a former Kindred Slayer was breaking the law, siding with a Sabbat follower was practically selling your soul. But Zarius made it clear long ago that Christopher was a member of the council and no more or less deserving of respect than any other primogen. The moment he stepped out of line, however, the position would not be the only thing Zarius removed.

"I am in favor." Christopher briefly addressed Benjamin. "Do not take my vote as a sign of hatred towards your clan. But the Sabbat is in just as much danger as the Camarilla if the Masquerade becomes exposed."

"Slayers and Sabbat," Benjamin muttered. "I don't know which is worse."

Zarius ignored it. Instead he rose to his feet.

"The vote is four in favor and five against. The Tremere neonates will be released into Benjamin's custody, to be immediately returned to their prince in Maine. It is my judgment that the Tremere violators will be banned from entering Vermont for a century, and a violation of that ban will result in Final Death."

Everyone expected Benjamin to speak out. To their surprise he remained silent and bowed.

"I thank the wisdom of you and your council." He responded before backing out.

Sean rolled his eyes.

"Is there any new business?" Zarius asked the council.

"There is a matter of Ventrue concern," Mary answered. "With winter upon us tourist season is going to bring in the most money. My husband's ski resort and hotel has booked over six thousand guests from December through the end of February."

"Ah yes," Zarius said. "I believe among your guests is a good friend of mine. A Ventrue prince if I am correct."

"Yes." Mary nodded. "The Prince of San Francisco to be exact. He is vacationing here with his significant other for the Christmas season, and that's the year when we lose tourists to the Anarchs and rogues."

"I can have Gangrel all over the resort," Sean offered. "But we have to keep an eye on the Canadian border. I received an e-mail from a friend in Montana, and they've been having problems with Canadian Sabbat members trying to stir up rebellion in the cities."

"Do not spare more than you can afford to," Zarius said. "The Assamites can secure the visiting prince just as well. Mary, you will have your security, for both the prince and for your human guests."

"Thank you my prince."

Routine business followed. There were requests to embrace, off shore interests, possible investment opportunities. Sean held back a sigh of relief when Zarius finally released the council.

The meeting was held in an old red brick building, located in Old Bennington. The Bennington Monument overlooked the street, and the oak and apple trees that decorated the streets stood tall, and naked. Snow began to cover the street and sidewalks.

"I remember when this was quieter," Mary said with a nostalgic sigh. Sean walked with her to her Buick, which was parked next to the cemetery. "That highway wasn't nearly as loud, and you didn't get quite so many trucks. The trains still ran and they brought in cargo from New York."

"I bet it was nice to see trains. I was still in middle school when they tore up the tracks to build the fire station." Sean said. "Course, I'm not nearly old enough to be nostalgic."

Mary laughed. "I doubt you'll ever truly be nostalgic. You appreciate things when they exist, not afterwards."

An elderly couple walked by, lead by a large black dog. The dog growled at Sean and Mary.

"That's enough Bea," the woman reprimanded.

Sean and Mary were quiet for a while. Across the road a white picket fence separated the sidewalk from the cemetery.

"Were you at his funeral?" He asked, absentmindedly.

"Who's?"

"Robert Frost? I mean, you said your husband embraced you in the fifties. I thought maybe you'd have been there when Robert Frost was buried."

"Oh no," Mary replied. "I never really knew him. Vermonters tend to be very private people, you know that."

Sean nodded.

"I wonder if I'll ever know someone famous."

"You know Ryan McVeigh," Mary pointed out. "I have no doubt his band will be famous."

"But he'll live forever," Sean countered. "He'll have to fake death every ten years or so to keep people from being suspicious, but he'll always have an opportunity to be famous. Humans have a very short time to make their mark on this world, and the rare ones make their mark for centuries after their deaths."

"I agree. Humans rarely do anything with the gift of life. But then most Kindred do even less with the gift of unlife."

Mary's Buick was parked just outside the church. Frost patterns gathered on the windows, illuminated by the electric candles inside. A nativity scene took up the lawn. Mary smiled warmly at the site.

"Pastor Martin Sloan gave a sermon here back in 1948." Mary told him. "I was a teenager then. What I remember most was his love and passion for life. When he wasn't giving sermons in the church he was skiing or rock climbing, or doing something that shocked and amazed us. And he'd always tell us each story, using his experiences as a metaphor for God's lessons. He even went deep sea fishing off the Atlantic one week, and, I remember he brought in a ten pound sword fish that he caught and used it to illustrate the story of Jonah."

Sean giggled at the thought of it.

"It was this church where I met Richard, my husband. He worked with my father at the hotel before we owned it, and he was something of a daredevil. If it weren't for Richard, I never would have learned to ski."

Mary got into her Buick and waved good-bye before backing out and driving off.

The snow became more intense as Sean entered the cemetery. He walked down the stone path. The air smelled of soil and snow, and deep beneath the grass the scent of death was faint but present to his preternatural senses. Sean found himself standing in front of two flat gray stones. He respectfully brushed the snow from Robert Frost's name, etched into the marble on the left stone.

"We had a lover's Quarrel with the World."

Sean looked up, startled as Benjamin approached. Benjamin had to have been closer to thirty when he was embraced. He had short, raven black hair, and flowing black robes. In a belt around his waste, he had a knife in a sheath, which Sean recognized as an athame.

"Shouldn't you be on your way out of here?" Sean asked, pointedly. He felt more than a little violated that someone would bother him while he was standing at the Robert Frost grave.

"We will be gone before sunrise," Benjamin promised, holding his hands out in a gesture of peace. "But I have had time to think about my words earlier. It occurred to me that you are not as much our enemy as I accused you of."

"Would you be feeling the same way if I had ruled in favor of killing the prisoners?"

Benjamin seemed to shrug the question off. "Thank you for your help to my clan. This will not be forgotten."

With that, Benjamin melted into the shadows, possibly to return to his territory. But Sean had a feeling he'd see Benjamin again very soon.


	2. Feeding the Drama

Disclaimer: The Rabid Monks are a real band here in Vermont. I went to high school with them and they're still together. Check out their website. Also, I borrowed the lyrics from their song, so don't sue me. :) 

Chapter Two: A Silent Winter Night

Bars were off limits to teenagers, typically. Fortunately, there were places in Bennington that a guy could go without getting into trouble…especially if he looked too young to be 22. Suzy Q's was one such place, and Sean wanted to be there.

The Rabid Monks were scheduled to play that night, and Sean nursed a ginger ale while Ryan and his band set up the equipment. They didn't speak much, Sean and Ryan. Back in high school Ryan was one of the "cool kids". A high profile, fast paced, chick magnet with the good looks and the money to boot. He wasn't a jerk by any means, but he knew where he belonged, and Sean never got to know him in the days before he "moved" from home.

"Hey," Ryan said, picking up a half empty bottle of Cherry 7UP he left on the floor.

"What's up?" Sean asked. He slipped off of the bar stool and carried his ginger ale to the band stage.

"Not much. How'd the meeting go?"

"All right. I don't think we'll be seeing Benjamin and those guys anymore."

"That's good. Eric was talking about sending me and my band out to Hoosic Falls for a couple of nights until things blew over."

People were beginning to crowd around the stage. Sean let Ryan get back to his work and went over to the Jukebox. He still had a few minutes before it got turned off for the band. Sean flipped through the racks of CD's before finding a song he liked, and popped in the required amount.

As Dead or Alive started up, Sean noticed several of his fellow Gangrel filling into the pool hall. He questioned one of his lieutenants as to how many were out on patrol, but he wasn't too worried. Sean sat in a corner alone for a while, sipping his soda and watching the door. He waved hi to Jeff Coulter, the co-founder bassist of the Rabid Monks, but he didn't chat. Toreador were notoriously obsessive when it came to their music, and by this time even Ryan would get annoyed if anyone tried to talk to him while they were setting up. Trent McCarthy, a Ventrue and another friend of Sean's in mortal life, came in and expressed some concern over the amount of Kindred at Suzy Q's. Sean assured him that no one would notice, and he'd have said something if he was worried anyway. Don't worry and just try to relax, we've all had a rough night.

Sean talked to Trent for a while. Then the band began to start up, and they drifted over to the band area and found a table. A few others were all ready sitting there, but it didn't matter. Most were humans. Sean could pick out the Gangrel, and the group of Toreadors from out of town.

All in all, it was a fairly decent evening. Alex Sanchez, the lead singer and guitarist stepped up to the mic.

"One, two, three, four!"

Instantly the music filled the room. The instruments blended and created the rhythm, and Alex's preternatural voice worked with the music rather than against it.

"She was made to be driven across concrete seas,

For a captain with the wheel in his hand

She was all pearly white, like a star in the night

And they called her the Good Ship Sam

Her first mate was crazy but quite competent

Adjusting the speeds as we go

And we met passers-by as we sailed through the night

And we called out quite loudly "YO-HO!"

"Who knows what we could find on our voyage

As we carelessly scour the land

But I'll dawn my sailor's cap and leave life behind

As I'm riding the Good Ship Sam

We'd sail for seemed like ours on end

Just me and my fellow ship mates

And we'd go anywhere, any day, anytime

Just so we'd have the thrill of the chase

We'd turn on the fog lights as the sun started setting

But still sailing just as long as we can

So if you wanna ride where no one knows time

Get yourself on the Good Ship Sam."

"That's a new one," Sean observed as the fans clapped. "Not bad though."

"You know what's different?" Trent said, clapping along with the others. "I can't hear Alex breathing."

"Yeah, good point."

A girl leaned forward from her seat.

"Hey, do you guys know the lead singer?" She asked

Sean nodded.

"He was a friend of mine in high school," he explained.

"Oh wow! Do you think you could get him to sign my CD?"

"Just ask him," Trent said, grinning. "He's usually pretty cool about stuff like that."

"Yeah, they're good guys," Sean added. "Talk to them during their break, they love their fans."

"Cool, thanks." The girl went away and Sean and Trent exchanged amused glances.

"You know what's ironic about this," Sean asked. "That back in high school I wouldn't have cared one way or the other."

"Me neither. But I was never really into their music back then." Trent admitted. "I didn't even know Mr. Peterson was interested in them until I was embraced."

"Oy, don't get me started with Peterson."

"Is he giving you a hard time again?"

"Not so much as before," Sean sighed, and stared into his drink. The band was doing another song, so they could talk freely without the humans hearing over the music. "I mean, he's accepted that I'm here to stay. He's over the idea of me being a primogen. But I think he has this carry over of frustration from when I was his student. You remember how I was in high school."

"Oh yes. You had to argue with every teacher. Some of them actually liked you for it if I recall."

"Well, Eric wasn't one of them. Back when I did the Diary of Anne Frank in class, we had differing ideas of how my character, Mr. Dussel should have been presented. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is, now that I'm Gangrel, he takes the opposing argument on everything I stand for. Tonight for instance, when we had our meeting over the Tremere, I didn't believe we should kill them, but he decided they should be killed because they have an obligation to obey the law."

"Wait a minute," Trent thought for a moment. "Didn't Eric once get in trouble for Dominating a critic into writing a good review for one of his plays?"

"I think that was it, yeah."

"That's just funny."

Sean listened to the band for a while. He knew it was in poor taste to discuss council matters with other Kindred, but Trent was one of the few friends he could confide in.

"He awoke with a vision, an urge to change.

Every day began to feel like it was all the same.

The morning of September 9th, 1609

Was when King Stanley decided to fly."

"So what do you think about the Ventrue prince coming to town," Sean asked over Alex's chorus.

"It should be pretty interesting," Trent said. "I guess he had a huge part in establishing the Camarilla in San Francisco."

"I heard he owns the San Francisco Times. I wouldn't mind working as a journalist there."

"I personally can't wait to see how Bastian deals with all of this." Trent said with a wry grin. "You know how the Brujah feel about us."

"Yeah well, we're not too crazy about them either," Sean pointed out. "The entire Brujah clan can kiss my ass for that matter."

They heard a mutter of agreement from another Gangrel who sat beside them. Sean and Trent decided to hold off the rest of the conversation for a more private time.

The Rabid Monks ended the first hour with a personal favorite of Sean's. It was the first song he'd ever heard from them, and it was the reason he bought their CD.

"Just move on Cuz your time is slipping away

I hope that you're happy And I hope you feel no pain

Why do you have to linger on The situation's done

Hold tight to your memories Then would you move on

"I don't like you anymore

You're not the one that I adore

Please stop trying to settle a score

I'm going to fall down on the floor

And I hope that you finally see

The way things could be

Hold tight to your memories

Just move on and be happy

"I don't know if you meant any harm And frankly I don't care

There's a place for you to be But I can't take you there

Now as this thing ends I don't think we'll be friends

I can't take your shit anymore This is as far as my sanity bends

I don't like you anymore

You're not the one that I adore

Please stop trying to settle a score

I'm going to fall down on the floor

And I hope that you finally see

The way things could be

Hold tight to your memories

Just move on and be happy."

The crowd applauded as the chorus repeated and eventually faded.

"Thank you very much," Alex said. "You guys have been truly awesome to us. We have our newest CD out, and its going for fifteen. We'll be here till closing so feel free to come on up while we take our break."

Alex and Ryan stepped down while Jeff preceded to entertain the crowd with his usual antics. He pulled out chipmunk puppet and did a ventriloquist skit.

"I'm taking off," Sean told Trent.

"All right. See you around."

Sean gave a few last minute instructions to the Gangrel who were staying behind. Keep an eye on things, watch the Monks, but watch the human patrons as well. Call him if there was trouble. Then, he left.

Like most towns and cities in Vermont, Bennington was quiet on the snowy nights. There was very little traffic after nine o'clock, save for cruisers and third shift workers. Most of the shops were closing down for the night and the restaurants were pulling in late crowds. The smell of Irish cuisine from Carmody's was pleasant. Sean vaguely wondered if Julian Luna enjoyed Irish food, and made a note to suggest it when he ran into Mary.

Sean took a walk up and down Mainstreet. From the well lit Four Corners, all the way up past Beech St. Then he crossed the bridge on Gage St. and took a casual stroll through Mountain View trailer park. His aunt and a few of his cousins still lived here. He kept tabs on them but he was careful that they could never see him.

He moved on, down the mildly lit Southside Dr., over a smaller bridge, and across School St., towards the K-Mart plaza. He hung around at the Plaza, sitting on a snow covered bench while customers and store clerks filed out of the drive way, back onto the road to go home. He sat there for hours, just biding his time. Keeping his senses open.

There was a path through the woods in the back of K-Mart. Sean's preternatural sight allowed him to find the path he had taken so many times during his childhood. But this was the only time he could take it at night and as a wolf. He was a careful to run along the floodwall, less some innocent bystander take him out with a rifle. The gun wouldn't kill him, but it would make things complicated when police reported a wild animal which was apparently impervious to lead bullets.

Sean sniffed out his prey. There was a man sitting near the river, shivering violently and smoking weed. Sean made his approach swift and silent. He overtook the man gently and dominated him into forgetting the next few moments. After taking only a few mouthfuls of the warm blood, Sean carried the man to the veteran's home nearby. The nurses there could call an ambulance to take him to the hospital.

Sean sat on another bench in the deer park. The deer seemed wary of him, but he didn't mind. He loved them as a child and he'd never do anything to harm them as a vampire.

It was almost a quiet night. Until the sirens blared…


	3. Blood Stained Snow

Note: I'd like to add here, that title of this chapter is a bit of a nod off to an original vampire story I wrote back in my high school days. It was a short, buffy-esque story about a girl who killed vampires...only her name was Delilah...see it was original. So there.

Anyway, thank you Tober for your kind reviews. Which reminds me, check out Tober's story too if you get a chance.

Chapter Three: Blood Stained Snow

Sean watched the scene from the roof of the high school. Police canvassed the area. Yellow tape blocked off everyone but the press and the girl's family.

Terrance, another Gangrel knew the girl. Sean recognized her from the concert. Short blond hair, a white tank top underneath a faux fur coat and boot cut jeans. She bled from multiple wounds on the neck, wrists, stomach. And with his preternatural sight, Sean could see the CD the Monks had signed for her lying in the snow a few feet from her body.

"I want to know who did this," Terrance said, letting a growl escape into his voice. "I'll kill them myself Sean."

Sean kept his attention on the murder scene. Police were taking statements from witnesses who were close by. He focused and listened in to piece together the events of the last hour.

The girl-Sally, according to Terrance-was driving home. She was going a little fast that night, but people sped past the high school all the time. Another car pulled out of the high school parking lot and stopped right in front of her. She squealed to a stop and blared her horn, but when the occupants of the car stepped out she must have sensed that they intended to kill her. She tried to run back the way she came, but her attackers caught up and cut her off. She ran towards the high school. They surrounded her as she screamed and cried, and killed her, on the sidewalk of the Career Development Center.

How she was killed was the confusing detail. People seemed to remember everything else accept the way she was killed. Most said knives, or ice picks, or some other variation.

Terrance's eyes took on a dangerous red glow. Sean placed a hand on his shoulder, but was quickly brushed off. In a firm voice he said, "Terrance, we treat this like any other situation. You can mourn for her after we've found and punished the ones responsible. Is that clear?"

"But they killed her," Terrance said, as if Sean hadn't been listening to the cops at all. "It's those fucking Tremere! I knew this would happen if we let them free!"

"Terrance!" Sean grabbed Terrance by the shoulders and pulled him away from the ledge. When he was out of the sight of the police he threw Terrance to the ground. He hated to be so rough, but he knew it was necessary if he was going to get anything done. "I'm sorry you knew that girl! It's hardest when people we love die, I know believe me. But if you let emotions get the better of you you're going to do something stupid. Now either put your emotions on the backburner, or I'll assign you to border patrol, because I need Gangrel, not hotheaded lovers."

Terrance sat there on his hands and knees, fighting the anger. Sean could tell that he wanted nothing more than to get his hands on the ones responsible for Sally's death. She must have been more to him than just some random girl. But Terrance's respect for the primogen overrode his anger, and he climbed to his feet and brushed snow and slush off of his clothes.

"I'm sorry."

"Just gather the other Gangrel and meet me at the college. I'll tell Zarius we have a problem and meet you with our orders."

The entrance into Zarius' home was freezing. For the first time in years Sean was thankful he didn't have circulation to worry about. The cave went deep into the mountain. Many students came in during the day, but not even the most skilled spelunker could find Zarius' home. It was large enough to fit a football field, but the rock that served as a door could only be moved by someone with preternatural strength.

The only light came from a fire in a pit at the center of the "floor". The cage which Sean was once held prisoner sat in a corner with the chain coiled neatly beside it. Zarius lived a very Spartan lifestyle. His only possessions were some books, which he kept neatly on a shelf, and his bed. He kept several bottles of wine between a cluster of stalactites where they remained cool. Zarius was sitting on his bed, reading from an ancient text when Sean entered.

"Sean. This is a pleasant surprise," he said, placing the book on the bed and rising.

"I only wish I had pleasant news," Sean returned. He dropped to his knee to kiss the Nosferatu's hand and rose again. "My prince, there has been a murder in the town. The victim was a young girl, a fan of the Rabid Monks."

"Kindred?"

Sean nodded. "It seems all of the witnesses were made to forget how the girl was killed. But they allowed them to remember the moments up until that point. It's my guess that whoever was responsible expected us to be looking for them, and Dominated the witnesses into selective amnesia."

The look in Zarius' eyes said that he was equally as sure of who killed the girl as Terrance was. Sean had to admit, it was too much of a coincidence for his tastes as well.

"I want every Gangrel searching for this girl's murderers." Zarius ordered. "Find Benjamin and the renegade Tremere. Bring them and any Anarchs you find to the prison."

"Yes my prince," Sean was gone as quickly as he came.

Zarius meditated until his rage subsided. He would not tolerate anyone in his territory who would willingly terrorize and kill an innocent child. When his mind was settled he left his cave and took to the air. He flew over the mansion of Southern Vermont College, where the Gangrel were assembled in the court yard. Sean was issuing orders and sending his lieutenants out to the patrol Vermont's borders. Lower ranking Gangrel were ordered to watch the streets and the hospitals. Sean even told three or four neonates to get arrested deliberately so they could monitor what was going on in the police stations. And be sure to feed well, you'll need the blood.

Satisfied that Sean was taking charge of the situation, Zarius flew south, towards Pownal near the Massachusetts border. He watched the vehicles and the woods and mountains around him. Vehicles drove along the highway. Some moved at a conservative pace, others floored it in spite of the slippery conditions.

The snow fell heavier now, impeding Zarius' sight so that he needed to use his tracking abilities to find his quarry. The heat of vehicles on the road came in the form of an orange haze. After centuries of experience, Zarius learned to separate artificial heat from the heat of warm blooded animals. But live prey wasn't what he wanted. He wanted the fading warmth of blood resting within the veins of the undead.

He found both.

In a cabin, in the mountains, two bodies. One had a beating heart and was dangerously close to another creature. This creature had a dead heart and dying blood. Zarius covered the distance quickly, flying just above the tips of the evergreens which graced Vermont's hills. The wind slapped his owl form like a hand across the face, but he ignored the discomfort as his thoughts rested on saving the girl.

The cabin came into view. He could hear the girl's confusion and fright as the man revealed his nature.

"Ow, what the fuck!" The girl yelled.

"Don't think about the pain," The vampire replied. "It'll be over soon, and you might enjoy it."

Zarius smashed through the window of the cabin and knocked over a nightstand as he landed. Startled, the vampire lost his grip and she staggered towards the door.

"Don't," Zarius implored.

The girl's hand slumped to her side and she turned to face Zarius. He dominated her into laying down on the sofa and sleeping. Then he grabbed the rogue vampire by the throat and held him in the air. The vampire stared into the Zarius' snake like eyes, frightened, yet vicious with hunger.

"What is your clan? Who is your prince?" Zarius demanded. "Tell me or I'll tear you apart."

"I have no clan. I was sired a week ago."

"Caitiff scum!" Zarius threw the Caitiff into a liquor cabinet. The stench of caged scotch and vodka filled the cabin, and splinters of mahogany and glass pierced the young creature's supple and fragile skin, pushing him to the point of frenzy. A single talon protruded from Zarius pointer finger in anticipation of the young one's attack. "Caitiff interloper," he said. His voice was loud and resonating. "You have entered my territory with out my permission, and you have attempted to shed innocent blood on our grounds. For violating my laws you are sentenced to Final Death."

The Caitiff was indifferent. His hunger was all he could think about, and he leapt at Zarius like a wolverine attacking a grizzly bear. Zarius made a clean swipe with his talon, beheading the rogue. He carried the body outside and found an old stone oven with a steal door. The base was covered in several inches of snow, but it didn't matter.

Zarius pulled open the door and stuffed the body in to the small space. He then removed a vial of a greenish-violet liquid, and poured it all over the vampire's weakening form. When the liquid made contact with the skin, it made a hissing sound as the body began to dissolve. Zarius watched as it broke down and the blood disintegrated under the power of the potion. It was a mixture of acid and phosphorous, enchanted and aged by powerful mages.

In less than a minute the body was a mound of smoldering black ashes, mixed in with snow and mud. Zarius returned to the cabin to check on the girl. Who knew where the rogue found this one? He was happy to find that the girl did not lose too much blood, and had not even been very deeply bitten by the time Zarius intervened. She was dressed very warmly for the season in a gray and brown wool sweater and black pants. Her brown hair curled and fell just above her neck.

The girl stirred despite Zarius' strong domination and gazed into his concerned eyes. She saw their cold, reptile-like stare, and yet somehow she seemed to sense the warmth and compassion beneath them for she wasn't afraid.

"You saved me," she said, still half asleep.

"Where are you from?" Zarius asked, kneeling beside her and checking her bite marks.

"I go to Williams college in Mass. Jeremy took me up here for the weekend, but…was he like you?"

"No. He was a monster. Did anyone else know you were up here?"

The girl thought for a moment. Then she shook her head.

"Then sleep," Zarius dominated her once more. "And forget all that has happened here."

The girl went into a deeper sleep now. Zarius searched the cabin and found blankets, sheets, and towels in a cabinet in the bedroom. He used several towels to wrap the Caitiff's head. The keys to a vehicle were on the floor, thrown from the night stand that Zarius knocked over. He found a Subaru in fairly good condition, and with a full tank of gas parked at the top of a driveway. Zarius placed the head in the back cargo space, and then carried the girl out and gently placed her in the passenger seat.

Zarius once received a crash course in driving from Bastian, but he had never really used the skill until now. He remembered how to start the vehicle, by inserting the key into the wheel and turning it. But it took him a good deal longer to figure out the stick shift. Bastian's car was an automatic. Once he managed to get the vehicle moving forward, it was a matter of navigating the narrow drive way without driving into a tree. Zarius toyed with the headlights a few times before deciding that he was better off relying on preternatural sight, but the snow made even that difficult. If only it would let up for just a little while, he thought.

When he finally made it to the highway he was grateful to see that the highway utility vehicles were out and about, distributing salt and dirt along the roads and keeping it from getting slippery. Even though it was his second time driving, Zarius managed to handle the Subaru as if he were born to drive it. But he admitted to himself that he preferred shape shifting to this any day.

Benjamin stayed on Route 7 for the past few hours. In the back the initiates slept soundly, as if the punishment that awaited them was not enough to disturb them. He wondered what moron Regent in what ill fated motherhouse ever condoned the admittance of such insubordinate wretches into the Tremere house. Even as a mortal, Benjamin had a great respect for the dark arts, and his perseverance and discipline was what earned him the privilege of becoming an initiate within his motherhouse in South Carolina.

It only took him a century to go through the seven circles, and now he was considered a fully fledged journeyman. He had been hand selected by the prince to act as a messenger and negotiator for the Maine clans. Earlier that evening, before Zarius' council Benjamin could sense the Amanda, the primogen's disapproving stare burning into his soul. He dreaded to think what his own prince, a Tremere no less, would think of his behavior. With any luck, the release and return of the progeny would be enough to overshadow Benjamin's outbursts, and he could go about his unlike studying whatever new artifacts the motherhouse scent his way.

Let them sleep, he figured. Perhaps their insubordination alone would take the attention away from him completely. He reveled in the idea of participating in their public humiliation before the rest of the motherhouse.

"Damn snow," he uttered, losing control of the van for a second. Blue and red lights lit up his rearview mirror. "Now what?"

Benjamin thought of trying to out run the cop. He had done it before with success. He needed blood badly, and dominating the cop would not help his situation. Fighting both anger and indignity he pulled over to the right. He thought of reaching back and draining the blood of one of the initiates, but the irony was he could be charged with unauthorized diabolization.

His adrenaline raged when he discovered this cop was Kindred.

"Benjamin McIntyre?" The officer asked, shining the flashlight in the back of the van. "Would you care to explain where you were at precisely 11:35 tonight?"

"On my way home officer," Benjamin replied, as politely as patience would allow. "And I'd very much like to get home to my prince, as your prince has given me leave to do."

"A girl was murdered tonight," the officer explained, unflinching. "The prince has ordered your return."

"What does some murder have to do with us?"

"That's not my place to say. But my orders are to bring you back at all costs. You can turn around now and return voluntarily, or you can wait here while I radio for backup."

Benjamin weighed the options. What choice did he have? The New Hampshire border was still twelve miles away, and the prince of Hampton Beach was notoriously loyal to Zarius. He couldn't hope to outrun a blood hunt. But he had orders to bring the initiates back, and this cop was but a single lowly Gangrel.

"I refuse." Benjamin said finally. "Go ahead and radio for backup. You can do nothing to stop me from leaving."

The cop sighed.

"That's a bad choice. You'll have to step out here and place your hands on the car. And you guys, out here now."

The initiates woke up, confused and startled. They staggered out of the back doors of the van placed their hands on the van like they were instructed. The Gangrel pocketed his flashlight and pulled out a gun.

"This is loaded with phosphorous bullets," he said. "Try anything stupid and I won't hesitate to fire."

Benjamin waited until the cop back was turned. He then drew his athame from the sheath and directed the initiates to be silent. The cop reached into the car and pulled the radio out.

"This is 24 on route seven north, on route to Littleton, New Hampshire. Requesting-hey, get back to the van!"

The gangrel got one shot. Benjamin side stepped the bullet and thrust the athame into the cop's dead heart. The initiates gathered around their superior, looking with shock and amazement. Blood spilled on the highway as the gangrel collapsed to his side.

"There's gasoline in the trunk," Benjamin said. He pulled the athame from the officer's heart and wiped it with a cloth from his pocket. "Dispose of the body and the vehicle. Do it and I'll negotiate with the prince to make your punishments lenient."

One of the initiates returned Benjamin's orders with a dropped jaw; as if it only now occurred to him that he was in trouble for what he did.

Benjamin picked up the phosphorous gun and fired it at the initiate's heart. Explosion was deafening to the remaining children's immortal ears, and they jumped back several feet. Their companion fell back, his eyes blank.

"Are my orders too difficult for you to understand?" Benjamin asked, feigning calmness as he turned the gun on the others.

"No Sir," they responded in chorus.

"Good. Then arrange these fools so it looks like a struggle took. By the time they realized it was one of ours we'll be under our prince's jurisdiction."

This time the initiates responded without hesitation. Benjamin took some small pride in this situation. He now had six frightened initiates under his control. They would be too afraid to speak against him, and if he could keep the prince from sentencing them to Final Death, he might be able to use their fear to his advantage. The bodies were convincingly arranged and an initiate poured the gasoline over the area, leaving a small trail of liquid just a few inches from the driver seat.

"Get into the van," Benjamin ordered. "Now!"

The initiates piled into the van as Benjamin removed a flare from the trunk of the police car. With one foot in the driver seat, he ignited the flare and dropped it. So what if police found it? That only made it harder for the Kindred to decide if this was a natural crime or not.

An hour before dawn a shadowy figure stood in window. His silhouette was outlined by the ambience of the streetlight just outside, but otherwise his face was almost in distinguishable. Amanda sat on the soft rug, staring placidly into the crystal ball. It was purely for novelty of course, but it helped Amanda during her meditations. Her golden blond hair caressed her silk black gown, and candles burned brightly in the cardinal directions.

"I don't know whether I should thank Benjamin," she spoke to the man. "I must admit I hadn't expected him to make such a stupid decision."

"But it takes the attention away from you at least," Allan pointed out.

"Exactly. Benjamin did me the favor in eliminating any doubt in the council's mind. Now there can be no doubt that the Tremere involved in killing that girl were under his command."

"And now there's going to be unrest in the Vermont council, with the San Francisco prince only two weeks from arriving here."

"Security will be tighter around him than around the border," Amanda pointed out. "But it won't bring Lazarus here any quicker. Perhaps Benjamin is the key to all of this, bringing his prince within my range."

"I can find him for you. But my price goes up the moment you say yes."

Amanda didn't move her head. She didn't speak a word or look away from her crystal ball. Instead she simply grinned, and focused. Allan's mental defense was too weak to fight her off. She crushed his will easily, but only enough so that he would never question her orders.

"Find Benjamin. Keep him in Vermont at all costs, and be sure he does far more damage than what he's done tonight. Now go."

"Yes, my mistress." Allan responded.

The Tremere primogen was far too disciplined to laugh out loud maniacally. But anyone who knew the premises well, could distinguish her laugh from the laugh of her Malkavian roommate anyway.


	4. Caging the Wild Animal

Author's Note: I'm currently reading the Tremere Clan novel, by Eric Griffen, so my working knowledge of the Tremere has been influenced somewhat by the story.

Chapter Four: Caging the Wild Animal

When most saw the two hundred year-old plantation house, at the end of a long driveway less than forty feet from the main road, they thought of Tara from the Gone with the Wind.

There were no housekeepers to prevent the years of damage which threatened to overcome the great home. The windows were smashed in by rebellious youth who occasionally trespassed on a dare. Snow covered the vast lawn and the cobblestone steps, and the sundeck was molding over fast.

Gargoyles watched from the widows walk on the roof. Their orders were to remain silent and to keep kindred intruders out. Beyond that, humans could practically squat there so long as the house was still intact. After all, if some random human drifter or drug user happened to crash on their property, Zarius need never know that they were killed there.

The bedroom door creaked loudly, echoing throughout the house and waking up the heroine addict who sullied the canopy bed with his presence. The foul stench of urine and feces overpowered Benjamin's preternatural senses. Fortunately he could afford to be choosey, as this wasn't the only squatter who'd had presence of mind to invade the Tremere house.

"Sven!" He shouted to one of the initiates. "You can have this one. Drain him and destroy the body."

"Yes Master Benjamin," the initiate responded, bowing nervously before accosting the addict.

Benjamin turned to the remaining five. "The rest of you feed on the rubbish in this house and when you are done, adjourn to the library. We have important matters to discuss before we move on."

"Yes Master Benjamin."

The initiates scattered to find their meals. Benjamin straightened his robes and went to find his own prey. In a matter of hours he had succeeded in convincing these mere fledglings, that he now held their young lives in his hands. If they so much as looked at him suspiciously, he would think nothing of killing them here and now. In his century Benjamin learned that fear was a powerful ally, and it insured that there would never be rebellion within the ranks.

Benjamin of course, had no intention of taking on the Vienna, or his own prince. But time would pass and these initiates would rise through the steps and become more powerful. Under his guidance they would make far better tools than the artifacts he had to work with. In a century or two, he could request total independence from the Tremere clan and become a solitary mage, with but a few assistants for his own personal use.

Benjamin found a pair of runaways sleeping on a plastic lined couch in one of the reading rooms. It was a boy and a girl, no older than sixteen, with clothes that suggested a less than privileged background. They were unkempt and slightly filthy, but they weren't as disgusting as the heroine addict. In fact, from the scent, there was nothing polluting their blood.

"Hmm, dinner for two."

Benjamin spun around and saw Amanda, standing in the doorway. She was dressed in traditional black robes, befitting any regent of the chantry. Her long blond hair and brown eyes were her best features, creating the illusion of a beautiful angel when a vicious witch existed beneath the surface. Benjamin's ambitions came crashing to the floor as she entered the room. Though he ruled against the execution of the initiates, he could sense hidden motives beneath the surface. But why come to him now, after he had all but declared war on her prince?

"How did you find me?" Benjamin demanded. "I was careful to avoid all Kindred outposts here."

"In Vermont?" Amanda laughed. "This isn't one of the big cities like Portland or San Francisco. If someone is in our state we can find him, which, by the way, is something you have against you."

"I imagine there is quite a bit of distress in Zarius' domain now," Benjamin said, with a wry grin. "But you can take credit for some of that."

"True." Amanda looked past Benjamin. The boy was beginning to stir. "Honestly Benjamin, couldn't you find better prey than this?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"An idea that's better than killing children in Zarius' land? Hell yes." Amanda held out her wrist and made a small cut. "Take some of my blood."

Benjamin snorted.

"How do you know I won't take too much?"

"Because I'm more powerful than you and you're too smart to try and force me into torpor."

With a slight nod of obedience, Benjamin accepted the gracious offering of blood from Amanda. Whatever she was up to, he was too hungry to think about it now. When he wiped his chin and backed away. The children must have been exhausted not to awaken by now.

"Let the girl sleep." Amanda said, removing a wallet from a pouch on her side. She placed it on the floor beside the sofa, and slowly pulled the boy to his feet. She kept both children in a firm trance to prevent their awakening. "This one is going with you."

"What's your game Amanda?" Benjamin asked, more out of curiosity than demand.

"I have no need to tell you of my actions. However, I have come to give you a fair warning. The Gangrel are watching the border pretty closely, and unless I'm mistaken Zarius has the Assamites throwing their weight around too."

"What do you suggest?"

"First," Amanda reached out and grabbed Benjamin's throat. "You would do well to address me a little more respectfully."

"Ulp, yes Primogen Amanda. I meant no disrespect."

"Apology accepted. But in the meantime, I suggest you make your way for White River Junction. Only a few Anarchs live there, but they shouldn't be a problem for you and your little power block.

Benjamin shrugged, like he hadn't been thinking of it moments ago. Amanda smiled and removed a cell phone from her pocket.

"Take this. I'll call you to keep you one step ahead of the Gangrel. Mind you, I have my own agenda to keep track of, and you'll have to rely on your own weak sense of foresight if you want to stay alive. But then, Sean is good at what he does, and so are his Gangrel."

Amanda brought the boy out to the porch, and summoned the remaining initiates so she could address them.

"Adolph is dead." It wasn't a question or an offer of sympathy. "This one will take his place. What is your name boy?"

The boy was awake now under Amanda's power. He shivered violently but he answered.

"Dennis."

"Dennis, you must go with these people. They will take care of you and teach you everything you need to know. But first, I must give you something. Will you accept what I have to offer?"

The boy looked at the vampires, frightened, but not sure what to think. He nodded.

Amanda bit into his throat and drank deeply. The blood was warm and pleasantly free of chemicals. His young heart began to beat faster as adrenaline surged. Amanda withdrew her fangs and bit into her wrist. As he fed from her she gave the others their instructions. Care for the boy. When he is fully transformed, take him with you to White River Junction. Benjamin must go there and remain there until I tell him otherwise. The longer he is, the more damage he does, like a wild animal kept in a cage. Kill any Gangrel you come across, with or without his orders or you will have to deal with me.

* * *

"Jeff, whatever you do, you can't print that story out," Mary ordered the editor of the Banner. Trent sat at the coffee table with four other Ventrue, waiting for her orders. "No, not until we have a decent cover up. Whatever it is it doesn't have to make front page news. Yes…yes I know the Gangrel are upset…yes I know but there's enough trouble with them and the Tremere right now, we don't need to fuel the fire. Sean's ordered the Gangrel on the police force to keep a tight watch on things, and I trust you to find something to go on the front page besides this incident last night."

Mary placed the receiver back in the cradle and walked around her desk so she could be face to face with her childer.

"As usual the foundations of our perfect tower managed to get rocked again. We are facing dangerous times and it is absolutely imperative that we do our part to maintain peace. We can't leave the Gangrel with all of the grunt work here. Try to discourage rumors by not giving anyone too many details without knowing the facts. I want you all to work on making Vermont safe for Prince Julian Luna and his guest when they arrive here, including assisting the Gangrel in their investigations."

Dean Wilder raised a hand. "Mary. What of the Brujah? It's highly likely that they'll try and take advantage of the discord between the Gangrel and the Tremere. Shouldn't we try to diffuse them in someway?"

"Unfortunately, no. I have brought that point to Zarius and his concern is that if we interfere with the Brujah then the conflict will only become worse. Rivalry between two clans is bad enough without adding a third and forth. And fortunately the Brujah and the Gangrel have been at a standstill since the incident in 1998.

"Above all, do not to take sides in this conflict. The Tremere involved in the death of that policeman was not a Tremere from the Vermont clan. I won't try and understand the complexities of their laws and bylaws, but I do know that there are insurgents among their clan like in every other."

"Some of us are working directly with Gangrel," Trent pointed out. "Especially in the hotel and other sensitive areas. Sean and I are best friends, I'm sure I could help put out any brush fires before they start."

Mary nodded, approvingly. "That will be fine. Be sure to offer your support to Sean, after all he is working hard to field this incident and protect one of the most distinguished members of our clan."

Mary dismissed the meeting. Trent tried to shield his eyes from the mid morning sun. He'd fed well enough to survive the ultraviolet rays, but it was bright and blinding against the fresh layers of snow. Luckily his car windows were tinted heavily enough that from the inside a human might have thought he was in a closet.

Trent came to an intersection at route 7. Morning services were letting out at the Green Mountain Christian Center, and elderly drivers were taking to the roads. It would take forever to get off of Harwood Hill at this rate. While Trent waited for the light to turn green, he considered driving north, towards Pownal. If he stayed on route 7 for two hours he would be at the crime scene. Human and Kindred alike had been to the scene on and off for the last twelve hours. Fortunately there was enough evidence for human detectives to believe this was random human violence. But since a policeman was involved that meant an investigation that could go on for months before it got quiet again.

_We'll be pulling double shifts for a while_, Trent thought, with a depressing sigh. He turned north and decided to see if he could offer his help.

There was a strong sense of morbid grief that came with driving down this road. As if by taking this road any Kindred would suddenly combust, sharing the awful fate of the two unfortunate vampires.

The roads were wet from melted snow. Fortunately traffic was manageable for the most part, with the Sunday drivers and the occasional Greyhound full of skiers. Some clouds blocked the sun, making the daylight easier to tolerate for a time. Trent saw warning signs and police vehicles lining the side of the road. As he got closer to the crime scene the scent of gasoline and burning flesh still hung in the air.

Trent pulled over into the breakdown lane. An officer was about to motion him away, but a Gangrel tapped him on the shoulder and told him it was all right. Trent recognized him as Michael Andrews, one of Sean's childer.

"Sean's over by the cruiser," Mike said as Trent stepped out of the car. "He's been taking this hard."

Mike walked with Trent towards the crime scene, where Sean stood by and watched a forensics scientist examine the vehicle. The passenger side door had been melted off and the cushions were charred heavily. The smell of water and chemicals from the fire engines was also strong, even though they had been there hours earlier.

"How are the other Gangrel on the force taking it?" Trent asked, conversationally.

"How do you think they're taking it? I've never seen anyone so ready to carry out a full blown witch hunt in my life."

"How's it going Sean?" Trent asked, approaching his friend.

"Not bad," Sean said, noncommittally. His focus was on the forensics scientist, but he gave a glance of acknowledgement. He was dressed in a white turtle neck with a gray sweat jacket tied around his waist. It was his pallor that worried Trent, for it indicated that Sean had been basically starving since the night of the concert. "They've been at this for hours and they still can't tell us anything we don't know."

"They're only human," Trent joked.

Sean managed to grin, but it was short lived. Mike returned to his squad car briefly, only to return with a piece of paper in his hand.

"We might have something," He said. "One of our guys picked up a teenage girl wandering a mile north of a mansion outside of Waterbury."

Sean shrugged. "Some runaway probably."

"Yeah, but you'll be interested in hearing her story. Apparently this girl was spending the night with her boyfriend in the mansion. Next morning he was gone, and she distinctly remembers people talking in the mansion the night before he went missing."

"What's so special about that?" Sean asked. "So the kid probably left her when he decided to go back home."

"Actually," Trent said, looking at the printout. "Sean, can I talk to you in private for a second?"

"Of course."

Sean told Mike to remain near the cruiser, incase the scientist needed anything, and walked back to Trent's car. He brushed off the occasional questioning glance from the human police officers. More than once he fielded a question as to what such a young person was doing at a place like this, but it didn't bother him as much now as it did when he turned eighteen.

"So, what's up?"

"I didn't want to say anything around Mike," He said, nervously. "Mary told us to try and keep things from getting worse between the Gangrel and the Tremere. But you're the primogen, and you should know about this."

"Well, spit it out." Sean said, patiently.

"Well, two years ago, Yolie Saberhagen, the real estate agent who Mary embraced, worked up in Waterbury for a few years. She condemned a plantation after too much mold was found growing in the bathrooms. Human beings couldn't live in a place like this, but it was nothing for Kindred."

"Yeah, but what Kindred would want to live in…" Sean stopped himself as the possibilities occurred to him.

"Before you came along Amanda asked Mary for rights to the property. Since there was nothing to be lost by handing it over, Mary agreed and the house became Tremere property. Amanda used the grounds nearby to hold their rituals, but she also rented it to the Tzimicse and the Malkavians."

"You think Benjamin would try to squat there?" Sean asked, glancing around and making sure the other Gangrel weren't eavesdropping.

"I wouldn't put it past him. He didn't seem like the type to think before he acted. But I was also thinking…well, what if Amanda is behind all this somehow?"

"It's possible. But let's see what facts we can dig up first. Are you up for a drive to the Waterbury?"

Trent wanted to help, but couldn't help but voice his uncertainty. "I could use some sleep, and Mary might need me here."

"That's okay. You can catch your forty-winks while I drive. But I need someone with a straight head. All of my Gangrels are too pissed off right now, and until we have clear and definitive proof of what's going on I want to keep everything on a need to know basis. You and I need to know, they don't. So you coming?"

Trent remembered the meeting with Mary and the other Ventrue. Well, she did give unofficial permission to help Sean if possible.

"Let me call Mary to let her know where I'll be."

Sean smiled and clapped Trent on the shoulder. He went to give Mike standing orders while Trent made his call. Mary, I'm going with Sean to Waterbury. No ma'am, I have no intention of taking sides. But if I can help out in anyway, I will. Thanks, don't worry. I'll be back tomorrow morning with a full report.

* * *

Of all the indignities he had to suffer during the Seven Circles. Of every demeaning little task his superiors put him through. Of all the disciplines he had to master, and the lessons he was made to recite, and the pains he was forced to endure if he made a mistake. And oh, there was amazing pain to endure. The headaches, the blood sweat, the hunger, the century of grueling hardship did not nearly add up, to the sufferable indignity of dealing with Amanda Capron's antics.

As if having to bring these leeches back to Maine was bad enough, now it seemed as though they had an unwelcome addition to their clan. Dennis accepted the blood from Sven's wrist, infuriating Benjamin even more.

While Gale drove Benjamin sat in the back seat, biting his own tongue as the fledgling pulled away. Sven pressed down on his wrist until the bite marks healed. He clearly enjoyed the temporary breach in etiquette that Amanda had placed upon him.

"Don't think this excuses you from punishment," Benjamin reminded the remaining violators. "Amanda may be primogen of Vermont, but when we get back to Maine you will be punished according to our prince's law."

"I doubt very much the prince will be harsh, Master Benjamin," Sven retorted. The gleam in his eye was brighter than any Christmas tree ornament. "When he discovers that you killed that gangrel and our fellow initiate. I haven't been here long enough but I do know that superiors have harsher punishments to contend with than initiates."

"You would do well not to threaten me childe," Benjamin hissed. "I am the prince's messenger. If an accident happens to befall the rest of you on the way back, all I need is to report it."

"You're in no position to threaten us," Sven said, turning to face Benjamin. "While Amanda is on your-"

Benjamin pulled the athame from his pouch and drove it between Sven's eyes, pasting a permanent look of shock on his face. Benjamin swiped with a single claw, opening the initiate's throat. Gale kept her eyes on the road, and the others kept quiet. Benjamin was oblivious to their unusual silence. He turned to Dennis and spoke loudly enough for the van to hear.

"This is the price of rebellion. Sven here may have been horribly disillusioned from our encounter with Amanda Capron. I suggest the rest of you shake yourself free of the idea that you can ever manipulate your way through eternity as she has, without losing your immortal lives." Benjamin pulled the athame free. To Benjamin he said simply, "Take the rest of his blood. It will make you stronger."

The fledgling boy eagerly obeyed. It was a pity they'd have to kill the wretch at the earliest convenience.


	5. Following the Trail

Author's Note: At long last, chapter five is here. Winter Break is over and now it's back to the grindstone. Subsequent chapters will follow, though not as quickly as I'd like them too. I'd like to recommend CorelHorgan's The Attempt, and the Investigation.

Also, if you would be interested in joining my C2 community entitled The Best of the Kindred the Embraced fanfictions, send me the following: An e-mail with your screen name, a sample of your own Kindred work, or three fanfictions which you highly recommend, along with your personal review. These fanfictions may be found on , or on another website.

Chapter Five: Following the Trail

Trent slept like a log in the passenger side. Sean kept to the highway and the back roads speeding most of the time, but keeping an eye out for state troopers and other obstacles.

So many thoughts cluttered his mind. The least of which was how to handle the newly arisen conflict between the Vermont Tremere and his own Gangrel.

When Sean thought about it, it was amazing how much Kindred life resembled high school, with clans being littler more than a synonym for "clique". The people who attracted the most trouble were the loners, the outsiders who refused to remain in the place they were told was theirs. Once in a while the members of the other cliques interacted with these loners, but more than often they were truly on their own. These were the Gangrels. Then you had the cliques which initiated people on a very exclusive basis. They were the rich, uptight, students who participated in every school activity, guaranteeing themselves a spot on every page of the year book. They were the members of student government, the athletes and the high honor students. They occasionally associated with outsiders, but only in passing. These were the Ventrue. Brujah were the overbearing bullies, and their millennia old rivalry with the Gangrel, at least from Sean's perspective, came from the Gangrel's refusal to be bullied.

And now came an all knew problem with the Tremere. Sean was almost certain this was a mild misunderstanding and that when he caught up with Benjamin and the initiates it would be settled. But old grudges had a way of outlasting the most brutal Final Death.

The idea that Amanda was somehow manipulating this danced in his mind as well. Gray clouds gathered in the sky, blotting out the sun. Sean checked the radio for the weather report. He stopped at an intersection and waited for a green light while the announcer read the latest forecast. Trent shifted to a better position and fell back to sleep. Sean was beginning to feel the effects of hunger. The silent memory of Zarius' voice screamed out among the confusion and stress, reprimanding his negligence and telling him to feed. Waterbury was only a few miles away, according to the signs on the side of the road.

"We need to feed," Sean said when Trent opened his eyes. "And from the looks of things you're worse off than I am."

"I can go a little while longer." Trent protested, groggily.

"Not much longer. If the sun comes out suddenly you'll combust, and then Mary'll kill me." Sean kept an eye on fields that zipped by. A herd of cows grazed on a hill even while the snow came down. But a good distance from the heard, and getting closer to the road, was a single cow. It was sickly and thin and its skin was a ragged brown color. "There's dinner."

Trent balked at the idea. The Ventrue in him felt somewhat distraught at feeding on animals like a common vagabond. And the human in him worried about the possibility of diseases.

"We won't catch anything," Sean reminded him. "And it's not human so we can kill it without your conscience bothering you."

Sean pulled onto the grass and killed the engine. Trent knew there was no arguing, with Sean or his own body. They got out of the car and climbed over the flimsy wire fence. The cow whined and began to thrash about.

"Easy girl," Sean spoke softly to it. "It'll be over soon."

Trent kept his distance as Sean approached. "Careful, those hooves can do more damage than any stake."

"Don't worry, I've done this before. I actually learned it from Mary."

The cow swung its head towards Trent, mooing loudly and kicking mud around. Sean swiftly gripped the beast in his arms, holding it steady with his preternatural strength and sinking his fangs into the exposed neck. Trent waited until the cow had lost enough blood to stop fighting, and bit into the side. He could taste the sickness and decay within the poor animals flesh, and though his body was immune to the sickness, his heart wasn't immune to the cow's despair and agony. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sean gently caressing the cow's ear, the way a person would to calm an injured dog.

Trent's body ached with relief as blood rushed through him. And like Sean said, the idea of killing a sick animal was easier to deal with than the guilt of feeding off of a human. It gave him the peace to take all that he needed.

When they both had their fill they left the carcass where it lay. When they returned to the car Sean pulled out his cell phone and called the nearest police station.

Hi, we were driving along and saw a cow lying dead in the field. Looks like it might belong to a farmer. Right along Route 22, about a mile and a half north of the intersection. No problem, hope you can find the owner.

* * *

Dennis stood near the van, hands thrust deep in his pockets. The cold didn't bother him as much as it did the night before, with the new blood warming his body. He was left to fend for himself while Gale and two of the other vampires-or "Kindred" as they called themselves-destroyed the dead one's body.

Though he had never been to White River Junction before, it was a pretty small town surrounded by mountains. A bus station and a McDonalds was the extent of this town's connection to the outside world.

He wished he knew what happened to Sarah. Everything happened so quickly, from the moment that man bit and drained his blood he'd forgotten about her. He'd met her at the same foster home in New Hampshire, and together they both decided to run from the system. Dennis had an uncle who worked in Montreal, and would have taken them both in until they were old enough to be on their own. Dennis turned eighteen in February, and Sarah only had one more year to go. It'd be easy to find under the table work in the city, so by the time they were old enough to be on their own they'd have money for their own place.

Dennis thought on the moment at the house, when the man told the other vampires to take care of him. They called him "Amanda". Did he just have one of those parents who liked to give screwed up names to their kids? That didn't make sense either, but then what did at this point? Vampires weren't supposed to be real, and now he was one.

Someone stepped into his path. A man with light brown skin and coal black hair. Dennis guessed he was Mexican. Though he was still unaware of his abilities, Dennis could smell warm blood coming from humans and animals. There was nothing warm in this person.

"Who are you?" Dennis demanded, trying to sound tougher than he felt.

"My name is Gunn," the other vampire said, smiling warmly. "You need not fear me. You and I are of the same clan."

"You mean…" Dennis tried to remember what the other vampires called themselves. "Tremere?"

Gunn laughed loudly. He placed his hands on Dennis' shoulders and gazed lovingly into the boy's eyes. Dennis wanted to back away but found himself powerless with fear and uncertainty.

"No childe. One of our own planted you among them to keep them here in Vermont. They will not leave until their messenger receives his orders, and by then you will understand what we need of you. Come, I have much to teach you young Assamite."

As night settled in Sean and Trent stood near the car, surveying the house. The stench of death was overwhelming even at this distance, and the unmistakable scent of a body's ashes also dwelled.

"I'd hoped we could go at least one day without smelling burnt vampire corpses," Trent commented wryly. He looked up at the balcony. "What do we do about those?"

Sean looked up and saw the creatures who kept their vigil over the house. One of the gargoyles gave them a warning glare.

"I'll take care of these two," He said with a snort. "While I'm distracting Quasimodo's friends here, take a look around. See what you can find."

Before Trent could object, Sean took on his wolf form and bolted into the house. Immediately the gargoyles leapt from their perches, hitting the ground and splattering mud as they bounded inside after him.

There was a lot of commotion followed by window in the back smashing. Trent saw the gargoyles chasing a timber wolf into the deep fields.

"I just hope those were the only ones," He thought out loud, nervously entering the building.

The house truly was a health hazard. It was amazing enough that the structure still stood, save for a few broken boards on the porch. Trent covered his nose as he examined the vestibule. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, rusted and covered in cobwebs. The air felt cold and filthy and just a few seconds in the place felt like rolling in sludge.

Knowing that Sean could only hold the gargoyles off for a short time, Trent made his search swift. A large living area took up the downstairs space, with a guest bathroom, kitchen and extra rooms for guests and office space. Moldy and rusted furniture, drug needles strewn about, food rappers and broken windows were all that he could find. The scent of death and blood was strong in some areas, and from the lack of bodies Trent could only assume it was kindred who had caused it. It was easy to see that human squatters came and went, but currently no one was sleeping here.

Trent found a sofa covered with a plastic sheet. Beneath the cover it was in good shape and even though Trent's abilities were still underdeveloped, he gathered that only Kindred slept on this sofa and lived to tell about it. On the plastic itself the impression of humans was strong.

Creeek! Trent spun around.

"Sean?"

Something or someone was walking up the stairs. It was silent save for the sound of the steps creaking. Trent went back to the vestibule and found the staircase. He didn't know what he would do if this thing was armed, or more powerful than he was. Taking a quick glance around him he found a few sharp objects that would make flimsy but effective weapons. Grimacing he picked up an insulin needle that someone had dropped.

* * *

Sean flew across the meadow with the gargoyles hot in his trail. They were fast little monsters, with arms and legs resembling a cougar or a lynx. Their forepaws and tails were taken from komodo dragons. Their heads were covered in white fur and they had long protruding snouts with tusks that loosely resembled a warthog's. On their backs signature gray wings flapped as they ran, but didn't give them the ability to fly. The wings were a personal touch from the Tremere alchemist who had modified these creatures centuries ago. A dire unwillingness to be mauled and dismembered kept Sean on his feet.

The first gargoyle was gaining on him, making an unearthly screeching sound. By now the field was covered in enough snow that Sean's grayish white fur helped him to blend in, and he temporarily lost the creature just by zig zagging to the left. The second one was on him. In an open field it would be impossible to keep out running them. Sean charged taking the gargoyle by surprise. It wasn't use to its quarry attacking it and it actually turned to run, exposing itself.

Sean leapt on the gargoyle and bit into its back, sinking his teeth in and tearing flesh. He leapt off just as the first gargoyle made a lunge for him. Both creatures were still alive, but the wounded one was slower now and it made things smoother. At this point it was just a game to see how long he could stay out of the remaining gargoyle's reach.

* * *

"Come in," Amanda beckoned.

Zarius let himself through the door, careful not to let his parcel bang into the door jam. Amanda was in the lobby office of her makeshift chantry, in the factory down the road from her house. It was any ones guess where Tanith was at the moment, but aside from the prince, Tremere chantries were strictly exclusive. With his preternatural hearing he could hear the sounds of chanting from the upper floors. The smell of candles, incense and potent herbs wafted through the ventilation shafts. In places only a Kindred could see were runes and incantations left to ward off enemies of the clan.

Zarius entered Amanda's office and placed the cooler on an empty table. Amanda got up from her desk and crossed the room to kiss her prince's hand.

"And what have we here Zarius?"

"The head of a Caitiff," Zarius said simply. "It was the first of many I had seen in my time ruling this territory."

Amanda lifted the lid of the cooler and removed the Kindred's head from the ice which preserved it. Its eyes were wide open and the skin was somewhat yellowed with age, but otherwise it was intact.

"You think these creatures were responsible for the murders along our territory?" Amanda asked.

Zarius nodded. "I have considered this a possibility. There are no other Nosferatu in Vermont, or I would have consulted them. I trust your forensic abilities, and your clan's powers and abilities. I thought perhaps you could answer a few questions for me."

Amanda replaced the head and closed the lid. She went into her desk and pulled out some anti-bacterial lotion.

"Any questions in particular?"

"Who made him? Has he been in the territory long? Are there more of his kind in our territory and was it they who have been killing innocent humans and Kindred? The answers to even one of those questions would be invaluable to me."

"I shall see what I can do." Amanda promised, rubbing the lotion into her hands. "May I ask where I can find you if we discover something?"

"I will be at the college, awaiting the reports of the other primogen." Zarius studied Amanda closely for a moment. When she went back to her desk to continue her work he left. Benmont Ave was quiet this evening, save for usual motorists. And the clouds were beginning to break up, having fully covered the world in soft white snow.

* * *

Zarius wanted to ask Amanda about how she was handling the conflict with the Gangrel. It pained him greatly when the clans clashed, though there was little he could do to prevent it. He trusted his primogen to maintain peace in his domain, but they had their urges and clan instincts to answer to as well. Even as the prince, Zarius had to obey the Nosferatu instinct of noninvolvement. So long as the conflict between the two clans didn't affect the Masquerade, or endanger the survival of Kindred he wouldn't interfere.

At the college Zarius met a young neonate by the name of Maya. Zarius recognized the Assamite and had approved her embrace the previous month.

"My prince," She cried, visibly distraught. "Allen, our primogen, has been missing."

"Calm down childe," Zarius said, taking her by the shoulder. "He can't have been gone that long. Come, let us escape mortal ears before you tell me more."

Zarius led her past the campus dorms and took her to his private office in the main school building. It was a small board room adjacent to the theater. Kindred and mortal used it for various reasons. Zarius closed the door and gestued for Maya to be seated.

"Now tell me when you last saw him."

"The night of the conclave, when you and the others were discussing the fate of the Tremere prisoners, Allen said he had business but he wouldn't tell us where he was going. He said someone had requested their services and that none of us were experienced enough for the job. I thought nothing of it and went on with my training. But after three days with no sign of him and no orders, even my instructor became concerned. Allen didn't appoint anyone to act in his place, and we didn't think he'd be gone long enough that it would matter."

Zarius agreed that it was suspicious. Maintaining the order and peace of the domain required Zarius' primogen to keep in constant contact with him.

"You did the right thing coming to me." He said, gently. "In the meantime, until he returns I need someone to sit in his place. Send word to the other Assamites that we need an interim primogen. I will honor any choice you make."

Maya looked up at him nervously. "My prince, I'm afraid my instructor and I are the only Assamites in Vermont who can be accounted for. We don't know the location of Allen or Gunn, and as you know they represent half of the Assamite population."

Zarius paced around the room for a few moments. It was terrible practice to show such distressing behavior in front of a neonate, but with the state of things he didn't think it would do anymore damage. First the Tremere and the Gangrel were at one another's throats, now the Assamites seemed to be sneaking around as well. Trying to stir more trouble? Allen did say he was bored.

"Very well," He said, coming to a decision. "Would you say your instructor is competent enough to lead your clan?"

"Very much sir," Maya nodded. "And I'm not saying it out of favor. Ivan has been around for many decades and has seen many things. He is loyal to the clan and does nothing without Allen's permission."

"Then with no opposing votes I accept your nomination." Zarius concluded. "Ivan Rochbergh is now interim primogen."

"Yes my prince," Maya bowed once before leaving.

Zarius waited until she was out of the building to collapse into the nearest swivel chair in his most uncharacteristic manner. Oh well…even Nosferatu were prone to frustration once in a while.


	6. Moving Out of Check

Bloody hell that was excruciatingly long. I'm sorry it took me so long to post these chapters. They were done weeks ago, but the computers in the Business class were down. Long story.

Chapter Six: Moving out of Check

Amanda stood nearby while two of her journeymen performed the necessary tests on the Caitiff head. She would have done it herself if she'd been younger. But in the two hundred years since her passing from the Seventh Circle of the Initiate, Amanda had ruled all those beneath her with a steal clad fist. Those who stood in her way, or attempted to usurp her quickly tasted her wrath. Back then it was easy to manipulate ones way through the chain of command, if one knew how. There was nothing so mysterious about the Tremere clan the others just didn't know it yet.

But this time there were other clans to deal with. When the Vienna House bestowed upon her the long coveted position of primogen, Amanda knew her manipulations would come to a halt for the time being. Moving from Vienna to London, then to New York then to Portland, she gained powerful allies and equally powerful enemies. She had a big part in establishing the New England Camarilla in the 1930's, aiding Prince Lazarus in purifying Maine of Sabbat followers. For a brief decade, with the consent of the Motherhouse, Amanda sat on the earliest incarnation of the Council of New England, representing the Tremere clan for all five states. There she made the bulk of her power block, gathering journeymen and initiates to support her as she made her moves, and making promises to others along the way.

Tanith was her first true ally among one of the other clans. The Tzcimisce bore a long surviving grudge against the Tremere, but here it was weakened enough to not be a problem. The Tremere outnumbered the Tzcimisce anyway, and there was nothing to gain by engaging in petty feuds. For a while Amanda was content with her position. But Lazarus ruled over a city, which held far more freedom than her own position. He could order the execution of any one of his intruders. But to order a final death, Amanda had to submit a proposal to the council, which then had to be approved by the other clans. With five members per clan and seven clans ruling over the New England territories the decisions could take weeks, even months. Amanda longed to leave her longed to have Lazarus' power, and before much time passed she was all ready going through the list of

In the 70's Zarius came before the council. Vermont was then a divided territory, and it had been under some dispute as to who should be in charge. Battles were spilling into the streets; Anarchs and Caitiff were causing incidents with now a low index of deniability. Zarius followers included Eric Peterson of the Toreador, James Reed of the Gangrel, and Vincent Pierce, the former Ventrue primogen.

Zarius was planning to take the state of Vermont as his domain. His followers were selected by their respective clans to lead as primogen, and they supported Zarius' desire to become prince. There was much debate among the council for three years. With her own following among the council, Amanda persuaded Tanith to come with her and stay at her side. Tanith agreed, and they made a deal with Zarius. (with Amanda doing most of the talking, because Tanith was busy chasing away invisible demons at the time)

Amanda sought and gained the approval of the Motherhouse. She could utilize her position as primogen to request any initiates and other subordinates she needed, and she sired many of her own progeny to be her personal followers. The motherhouse agreed to her request because there was nothing to be gained by denying it, and since Amanda had requested nothing in her time as primogen. Amanda also had a feeling that her sire was pulling strings for her, but she never questioned it.

Amanda and Tanith joined Zarius, bringing the might of the Tremere and Malkavians into Vermont.

In thirty years Amanda had accomplished far more than she could have hoped. In the lush green environments and mountainous regions, the Tremere spread out and became one of the third largest clans in the state. Many of Amanda's childer were now in the Third Circle, and others were now full fledged journeymen and chantry leaders.

With James back on the council and Sean in his place, Amanda was able to move more freely in the last two years. Sean was young and naïve, and for a primogen those were fatal traits. Amanda had all ready succeded in placing her pieces on the board before Sean had a chance to set his up.

Gangrel were such funny creatures. With all of the rivalries between theirs and other clans, no one would suspect that Amanda was using them to take the attention away from her own actions. If she could keep Zarius' eyes focused on Vermont, she could work on luring Lazarus to her.

"Let me know when you find anything," Amanda instructed the Tremere.

"Yes Primogen Amanda." They responded, never missing a beat of work.

Amanda walked down the hall, occasionally looking in on other experiments and checking to see that her subordinates weren't wasting time. Artifacts were being tested, spells were being cast, meditations were being performed. The scent of magick was strong in the air.

On her walk she came upon a room where heavy machinery used to be kept. Five rows of tables were laden with herbs, animals both dead and caged, and books of text on recorded spells and potions.

Amanda strolled down the aisles. The monitors and instructors bowed to her but did not falter from their duties. Many of the students looked up and gawked, but were quickly reprimanded with a slap along the back of the neck.

The primogen stopped at one student who was working with a live scorpion. She used a small metal pot for a cauldron, filled with what smelled like ram's blood and crushed nettles. The student opened the cage and removed the scorpion, gripping it by the tail. While concoction came to a boil, the student placed the struggling scorpion on to a round glass container. She then took a sewing needle and drove it into the creature's brain, killing it. When it stopped struggling, the student spread its legs out flat and tied a piece of rawhide string to the creature' tail. She then lifted the scorpion up so that it dangled from the rawhide, and lowered it into the potion. Amanda remained silent as the student recited the incantations in perfect ancient tongue. This was a disciplined childe who took her work seriously. When the incantations were complete she removed the scorpion and placed it on the glass plate to cool off.

"An excellent piece of work," Amanda spoke up, startling the student. "Can you tell me the practical applications of this particular medallion?"

The student stood to attention and faced her primogen as she spoke.

"Scorpions are poisonous arachnids. They can be used to infect and poison the target of its possessor's spells. Sickness can be spread to masses by simply placing it in water. And-"

Amanda held up a hand, silencing the student.

"Acceptable but not perfect. When I asked you to tell me about its applications I had expected a complete recitation. Study your books well and remember them word for word. I will ask you again at an unexpected time."

The student bowed her head nervously. "Yes Primogen Amanda."

Amanda took the medallion and tied it around her neck. She told the student to carry on and went about her walk.

In the lower offices floggings were carried out. This punishment was reserved for insubordinate neonates, and there were many among this small branch of Tremere society. Amanda was quite thankful when the initiates of Lazarus' City came to Vermont. And with Benjamin placed conveniently under her thumb as well, eventually the prince would have to come to Vermont to deal with the matter himself. Setting up the assassination would be simple, but for now she had to be patient.

* * *

Dennis was amazed at how easily he could move through the crowd of passengers, and not get seen by a single one. All he needed to do was imagine himself as an invisible form and he could be standing in front of someone for hours without being seen.

He and Gunn spent the nights tracking down the vampires called Anarchs and Caitiff, draining their blood. White River Junction was full of these renegades, and their blood made Dennis stronger than a normal neonate.

"Ordinarily this is a punishable offense," Gunn explained. "All Final Deaths are authorized and sanctioned by the prince and his primogen. But Allen senses difficult times coming, and he wants the Assamites to be on the side of whoever wins. That's where you come in."

"Those Tremere thought Allen was their primogen," Dennis recalled. "They still think I'm one of them."

"And that is what you must convince them of for the time being," Gunn said. "Though you will not have the powers to shape shift for sometime, you will still be able to elude them if they catch on. The remaining fledglings are mere initiates, and they are unaware of the full force of their powers. Even Benjamin is a mere journeymen and not a sorcerer."

"Will I be able to fight them if I have to?"

"No. Not for long and not without your full range of capabilities. But you needn't worry about that for now. Just keep an eye on Benjamin and make sure he stays in Vermont. If your party should be overwhelmed by the Gangrel then tell them you were kidnapped, that should keep you safe."

Dennis gulped. He remembered Allan telling the Tremere to kill any Gangrel they came across. All ready three drifters and a local fry cook at one of the diners was killed off, all Gangrel. Just what kind of world was he being dragged into?

Gunn brought Dennis back to the motel where the Tremere were staying. Gunn disappeared and Dennis went into room 4, where Gale, Roen, Silvia, and Peter meditated.

"Where have you been?" Benjamin demanded, getting in Dennis' personal space.

"You told me to get lost," Dennis reminded him. He was tougher now, knowing his position. Although the world of the Kindred was frightening he had to admit that there could be advantages to this life. "I killed several Gangrel like we were ordered."

Benjamin's eyes narrowed. Dennis closed his thoughts off like Gunn taught him. After a few minutes when Benjamin could find nothing he shrugged.

"Good boy. Perhaps you will be of some use to me after all. Here," Benjamin handed Dennis a room key. "Go into the next room and get some rest. Be ready to leave at a moment's notice."

"Yes sir," Dennis replied.

* * *

Trent just barely made it to the top of the stairwell when a figure came out of nowhere and knocked him to the floor. He still had a grip on the needle and tried to stab with it, but the figure was gone. The smell of old blood was nearby though.

His preternatural senses allowed him to see navigate the dark corridor. The carpet smelled of urine and other foul odors. Plaster along the walls peeled and cracked in some parts, and electrical sockets were empty and rusted. The scent of mold was even stronger here. Trent swore that when he got back home he would demand this house be burnt.

Trent followed the scent of blood down the hall. He kept glancing behind him, expecting a sneak attack from all directions and wishing Sean was in here with him. Hell, any other Kindred would be welcome company at this point, even the Brujah.

A hatchet swung out from a bedroom, missing him by an inch. Trent raised the needle and swung, hitting pay dirt.

"Agh!" Someone shouted. Trent picked up the ax and entered the room to see the Assamite primogen bleeding and trying to get the needle from his body.

"What are you doing here?" Trent asked, shocked.

His guard was down and Allen took advantage. Trent held up the handle of the ax trying to keep Allen at arm's length. Allen grabbed it and as they struggled Trent took advantage of the opportunity and kicked him in the groin.

Stunned and somewhat shocked, Allen fell back. Trent rushed him, using the butt of the axe to force Allen towards a window at the rear of the room. Allen grabbed the handle and yanked hard. Trent was no match for the older Kindred's strength and unwillingly gave the weapon back to his attacker.

Allen blocked the doorway and tried to back Trent into a corner. Trent changed his tactics. "Allen, it's me, Trent. Remember? I'm Mary sired me. If you kill me she will have you killed and there'll only be more bloodshed and hatred between the clans. This is stupid and you know it."

Allen's look didn't change and he didn't stop his slow and menacing advance on the young kindred. He raised the axe and swiped horizontally. Trent hit the floor fast and rolled over in time to miss a deadly chop. The blade lodged into the floor and Trent took the opportunity to get to his feet and crash through the window. Trent fell two floors and landed on the concrete patio. He recovered quickly and got out of the way just as Allen hit the ground. Trent leapt from the patio and onto the snowy ground, calling out to Sean as he ran for the car.

Trent reached the left wing of the house when Allen finally abandoned the axe and flew, full force, into his back, knocking him to the ground. Allen reverted from hawk form and glowered over Trent for what seemed like minutes. Trent rolled onto his back and looked, frightened, upon his attacker. Slowly he inched backwards, feeling for the axe as he moved, but knowing that Allen could pretty much finish him off any moment. Just then a loud howl split their ears, and the sound of paws kicking up snow followed.

Sean slammed into Allen, and when the Assamite was pinned down, leapt off just as quickly. Another second later the gargoyle bounded into Allen, accidentally goring him with its tusks. Trent got to his feet and Sean, in human form led him away from the violence which ensued. The gargoyle seemed to forget about them now that it had something new to tear apart.

When they got to the car Trent told Sean everything that had happened. How Allen didn't seem to recognize Trent, or even have the ability to communicate normally.

"Something isn't right," Sean said when he finished. "Allen can be a bit of a moron, but he's not stupid. Did you find anything else in the house?"

Trent shook his head. "Nothing helpful, but then I didn't have much time to look around."

"Well, those two should be busy for a while," Sean said, looking back at the house. "Give me about twenty minutes. I'll see if I can find something."

Trent waited in the passenger seat. His clothes were soaked and ruined, and right now he'd do anything for a hot shower and a cup of coffee. He fidgeted nervously, hoping the gargoyle would be occupied with Allen long enough for Sean to save this night from becoming a dangerous waste.

A couple minutes later than he promised, Sean emerged from the house with a few items that Trent hadn't found. When he got in the car he handed them to Trent. There was a notebook, an empty wallet, and an old tattered school photograph of a black girl with long hair.

"I sensed a human boy had held that picture," Sean explained, pulling around and driving back to the road. "And I remembered the police report about the girl who'd said her boyfriend went missing last night. I found that wallet in one of the guest bathrooms. I'm guessing it contained cash at one point, but if you give it a good strong wiff you smell-"

"Kindred have touched this recently.," Trent interrupted, holding the wallet in his hands. "I'm getting Allen's impressions all over it. I know that sounds weird but-"

"No it isn't. This is just the first time you've used your sensory abilities," Sean explained. "If you hone them in you can eventually sense how many people have touched it and for how long. Allen had a hold of that wallet for at least three days, and the money inside must have been taken by the girl who held it afterwards."

Trent opened the glove compartment and placed the photo and the wallet inside. Then he took a look at the note book and flipped through the pages. Words and paragraphs were written all over the pages in some language that Trent couldn't identify. Whoever owned the notebook was also an avid calligraphy enthusiast, and at a closer inspection Trent could see traces of red in the ink.

"Is this…is this rose fluid?"

"That's what I'm guessing." Sean answered. "And if I recognize the hand writing, I'd say it was Tanith's."

Trent tossed the book in the glove compartment and slammed it shut angrily.

"Are there any primogen who aren't conspiring to kill everyone?"

"I think I'm the obvious answer to that."

"You know what I mean."

"Let's stop at a motel somewhere and get something to eat. I should contact Mike and the others to see what they've found, and we could both use some rest."

Trent didn't answer. Within minutes of settling into the seat, he was fast asleep.

* * *

Amanda was only slightly distressed to hear the news of Allen's death. And she was even more distraught to learn that two of her gargoyles were injured and dying.

"Retrieve of them what you can," Amanda ordered the informant. "Is there any evidence that the Gangrel or the Ventrue killed Allen?"

"None that we've been able to find," the man's voice crackled over the phone. "There was a struggle but it all points to the Assamite. And the gargoyles were acting on your orders to keep intruders out."

_Good_, Amanda thought. _At least there's no way to implicate the Tremere._

"What of the Maine initiates and Benjamin. Have you been tracking them?"

"Yes, and they have been following your orders. But with all due respect Primogen, the Gangrel are going to declare war on us eventually."

Ordinarily Amanda would have chastised the informant for doubting her judgment. But in order to keep them efficient she decided she'd have to at least explain herself this one time.

"Only the primogen can declare war on us. And so long as Sean believes that the Tremere from the Maine chantry are responsible for the killings, he won't go that far."

Amanda issued a few final instructions. Then she hung up and called Benjamin. Don't use that tone of voice with me. I don't care if you were sleeping; Sean has been to the mansion. He'll be in your area soon enough. Get yourselves out of there and make your move for St. Johnsbury tonight. Plenty of Gangrel there to kill off while you wait for my next call.


	7. Unexpected Turns

AN: Oy, breaks mess me up sometimes. I knew I was spelling Allen's name wrong in the last two chapters, but I wasn't able to check back for reference because of the net being down. I'd like to thank ColREHogan for pointing out my mistake. If we don't help each other out who will?

Chapter Seven: Unexpected Turns

Dennis leaned against the van with his hands thrust in his pockets. He had fed enough and was now waiting while Silvia filled the tank with gas. Gunn left him with last minute orders, and warned him to watch out for the Gangrel. Overall he was to keep a close eye on the Tremere and to be ready to act when the time came.

"And don't worry about your Sarah," Gunn said, before leaving Dennis alone. "I'll keep my eye on her. She will not come to any harm from Kindred or human."

Though Dennis hadn't known Gunn more than a night, he felt he could trust him somehow. It made it easier to agree to do this job. He knew that if the Tremere found out the truth he would be killed. But it didn't matter anyway because he knew how to elude them. And those other clans would probably leave him alone if he wasn't causing any trouble.

Dennis rode shotgun while Gale drove. Several times she pushed the speed limit, until Benjamin warned her to watch for police.

"How long have you been a vampire?" Dennis asked, trying to pass the time.

"The term is Kindred." Gale corrected. "And I have been a member of the Tremere house for fifty years."

"I hear we're supposed to be sorcerers or something."

"All Tremere are capable of great feats of magic and power. For thousands of years, since the day the wizard Tremere experimented with the blood of his Tzimicse captives. The Tzimisce are typically our enemies as a result of these events, but they do not pose any threat."

"Just drive childe," Benjamin snapped from in back. "The prince and the council will determine what he needs to know about our clan."

"Yes Master Benjamin."

Dennis spent the hours in silence. Accept for the hum of the engine and the drops of rain hitting the windows it was quiet. Even the sound of breathing was absent, not that it disturbed him. His own missing heartbeat bothered him at first. But Dennis lived a life where his basic needs were often denied, and losing the need to breath seemed to come naturally.

Sarah. He wished he could tell her everything, and at the same time he hoped Gunn wouldn't Embrace her. This world was too dangerous; there were too many unanswered questions. Dennis pondered his current situation, being surrounded by members of a clan who had once cursed his own. Though he was unsure what Cainite vitae was, he was certain it was a big deal to many Kindred, big enough to piss people off if it was denied them.

Maybe this was part of some vengeance, Dennis figured. In New Hampshire gangs tried to set each other up all the time. Wearing the enemy colors on robberies and shootings, then watching while their rivals were arrested and sent away. But who was this between? Was it just the Assamites and the Tremere, or were the Gangrel involved too? Someone was going to have to explain everything to him later, if he survived this.

* * *

"Fifteen Gangrel killed in three nights?" Sean was fighting the urge to fly into a blind rage. He tore the "police" report in half and tossed it in the recycling bin. He sat was in the State Trooper's office where two Gangrel were lieutenants. Carl sat behind his desk while Joe stood by the coffee maker

"We've been making stops all week," Carl said. "But nothing's coming up. We found Anarch bodies in White River Junction, but again, no killer."

Joe filled two cups of coffee and handed them to Trent and Sean. Sean sipped the coffee and winced at the bitterness. Trent guzzled it like it was the greatest stuff on earth. He was wearing a black sweater with the Vermont State Troopers logo in big blue letters and a pair of sweat pants from the locker room. His own clothes were in the back seat of the car, and he was determined to torch them when he got back home.

"I lost my cell phone back at the mansion," he complained. "I could have called Mary."

"You can use my phone." Carl offered. While Trent called Mary, Carl spoke to Sean. "Sir, we need to act soon. Gangrel are spread thin over Vermont right now and most of them are busy watching the border."

"I know." Sean said, speaking softly so Trent could hear Mary. He paced in a circle, glancing casually at wanted posters on a bulletin board as he made his decision. "I'll call Montreal and tell our people up there to double their watch of the border patrol. We need every Gangrel in Northern Vermont to be alert and we can't do that worrying about the damn Sabbat."

Carl nodded in agreement.

"Joe, call Rodriguez, Cotter, and Marx. Call the other precincts as well and get our people out on the roads."

"All ready on it." Joe replied, resting the receiver between his chin and shoulder while dialing.

Trent hung up.

"I told Mary the basics. She's going to tell Zarius and then she'll send word to all the Ventrue. She's given you guy's permission to do whatever you want with the house. As far as she's concerned Amanda and Tanith gave up their rights to it when they let squatters onto the property."

Sean could tell from the tone of Trent's voice that he would like nothing more than to go out there with a gallon of gasoline and a flame thrower.

"We'll hold onto it for a while," Sean said, mildly amused. "Carl, have some people stake out the area. See if anyone comes back."

"That should be easy enough. I could use a few random sting operations as cover. At the very least if the Tremere don't come back we'll get a few drug dealers off the streets."

"Good. We'll head on up to St. Johnsburry in the morning and continue our search there. I authorize you to arrest any stray Tremere you come across for questioning. Get names and blood samples for later identification, and if they're form out of state, personally escort them back."

"We don't have a proper holding cell for Kindred," Carl pointed out.

"The Brujah owe me a few favors. They have well guarded warehouses up here. I'll give Bastian a call."

Carl balked.

"I'm not asking you to get along with the Brujah," Sean said, draining his coffee and tossing the cup in a wastebasket. "But I am giving you an order to work with them."

Sean called Bastian and told him the situation. I need your warehouses to use as temporary prisons. Yes, we're gonna have to put aside clan rivalry for now. Cause I know about your Internet prostitution scam that's why. Thought you'd see things my way. Thanks for the help. See you soon. Happy Kwanza.

* * *

"Damn it!" Amanda closed the blinds of her house and locked the doors. She picked up the nearest object, a round gray river stone, and threw it across the living room at preternatural speeds. It hit lodged itself into the brick wall. She picked up her crystal ball and smashed that into the floor, turning the larger pieces of glass into sand. Tanith was utterly amused at all of this and began smashing things too. Amanda grew tired from her rage and collapsed onto the sofa. "We lost the house now. We can't go back there or Sean will implicate us for sure."

Tanith leapt over the sofa and landed in a crouch. She turned around on the ball of her foot and stared into Amanda's eyes.

"Kill Sean," She said. It was the first time in three months that she spoke. Amanda welcomed this rare moment for semi-coherent conversation.

Amanda shook her head. "Benjamin would be the only one I could send. But even with the suspicion on him if Sean dies it'll be traced back to me. Zarius will have all ready heard about Allen."

"Anonymous tip," Tanith suggested.

"And if human police learn of the Masquerade?"

"Small risk."

"With huge consequences."

"Patsy."

"Benjamin's too risky to trust with something like this. He's killed two of his initiates all ready. Any chance to betray me to Lazarus would be too tempting for him."

"Another Initiate?"

"Hmm…perhaps. There is one particular student who has shown promise."

"Use her."

"But there is the additional charge of misguiding an initiate. I could have my tongue removed if the brat is so inclined."

"Offer incentive."

Amanda thought for another second. Being the right hand of a primogen had its upsides. And the young girl would no doubt excel under her tutelage.

"Excellent idea Tanith," She said. She lifted her arm as Tanith crawled up onto the sofa.

For the first time in a week the sky was clear. Trent and Sean stayed at a Motel 6 in White River Junction after questioning the "locals". It was confirmed that not only had the Tremere been through there, but that they were in fact responsible for killing the Gangrel and the Anarchs. Sean left orders with his clan to keep the peace as much as possible. Work with the Brujah and try to keep clan differences aside as much as possible. Do not kill any Tremere that you apprehend, unless in defense of yourself or someone else. I mean it. It is for the Prince and the council to decide their fates, and I promise you there will be justice for our people.

Trent drove while Sean read Tanith's diary. It was seventy pages of incoherant ranting, lines of poetry, and doodles and scribble marks in between. Four pages contained nothing but the word "Ball", written with excellent penmanship as if it were meant to be a Yale student's graduate thesis.

"What was this woman before she was Embraced?" Sean wondered out loud.

"No one knows much about Tanith," Trent observed. "I only know whatever Mary told me. You don't think Tanith really supports Amanda do you?"

"You and I are in the same boat buddy," Sean said. "I don't know anything about Tanith, or any of the Malkavians that live in this state. Gangrel are survivors, and hanging out with their kind doesn't fall under that category sadly."

"But Tanith is the Malkavian Primogen. How did she get that position being so unstable?"

Sean shrugged. "Back when James and Vincent were around they told me a little of the agreement between Zarius and Amanda. Tanith was with her then. The other Malkavians chose her for representation and Zarius accepted. She's done her job fairly well in spite her quirks."

Trent thought about that for a moment. Then another question occurred to him.

"What about Christopher? Why allow a member of the Sabbat to even join the council?"

"Christopher and most of the Lasombra who have come here have acted within the rules." Sean answered. "Most of them are considered traders to the Sabbat, since they refused to clear out of here when the Camarilla was established."

"But they're still Sabbat though. How can the New England Council let that happen?"

"There was some treaty between the Camarilla and the Sabbat. I don't fully understand it yet, but Zarius wants me to know about it for some reason. All I know is Sabatt used to have a stronghold on most of the United States. This harkens back to Gangrel history, since it was a Gangrel who supposedly Embraced the first Native American. Many Sabbat sects began moving here with the early settlers, and by that time more than four hundred Gangrel lived on the East Coast or in the still undiscovered parts of the countinent. Their services went out to the highest bidders among the Sabbat leaders and for the longest time the greater majority ofGangrel in America were Sabatt. Enter the other clans of the Camarilla and you have a century and a half battle which wages well into the fledgling years of the United States."

"Mary once told me that many Ventrue were involved in the Revolutionary War." Trent added.

"James was around during those times. He said 'the Ventrue were the pen pushers but involvement is a flattering term for what actually went on then'." Sean snickered. "Hard to believe he and Vincent were such good friends."

"So what led to the treaty between Sabbat and Camarilla?"

"Witch trials and the Revolutionary War both played huge parts in the treaty. You know the history of the Masquerade right?"

"Everyone does."

"Then you know it was the Inquisition that called for it."

"So you're saying the years and years of witch trails here in the States were a cover up for trying to find vampires?" Trent couldn't help but chuckle sardonically. It shouldn't have surprised him.

"History repeats itself," Sean said, his tone equally sardonic. "Many of the outside consultants at the Salem Witch Trials were Hunters. Kindred were fitted with the unflattering term "succubi", and as a result innocent humans dangled from a rope while suspected Kindred were secretly bled to starvation and left in the sun to burn."

Trent shuttered. The sun was high and bright and suddenly he was very hungry. Sean seemed to read his mind.

"We'll stop at a farm along this route. I know a guy who can sell us some pig's blood without asking questions."

"Does he know we're…?"

"Yeah, but its okay. He's a ghoul."

"I haven't seen too many of those." Trent said, thankful for the change of subject.

* * *

Zarius called for an emergency conclave to be held at the conference room of the Bennington State College, across town from his . He was more than a little unnerved to find four of his primogen not present, but he chose not to let his annoyance show.

"Primogen Amanda extends her apologies to the Prince and our council," said Gallant, sitting in as interim for the Tremere. "Everyone in the chantry has been hard pressed to save the legitimate name of the Tremere from the wrong doings of Benjamin and his group."

"Considering the Tremere penchant for conspiracy," Christopher retorted. "I would do a little more than apologize on Amanda's behalf."

"Our primogen is dead because of the Tremere," Ivan pointed out. "Though the unlife of an Assamite is nothing less than a constant danger, we do not appreciate being unwilling pawns-not without proper compensation."

"And you shall have such compensation," Zarius assured him. "If it is discovered that Allen was not also trying to deceive us as well. For now, be happy that I have not placed the Assamites under the same suspicions that I have placed clan Tremere."

"Which brings me to the next item on our agenda," Gallant spoke up. "The treatment of Tremere in the last three weeks. Brujah and Gangrel have been imprisoning and interrogating our people for the last three days."

There was a slight murmur and several remarks of amusement at the idea of the Brujah and the Gangrel working together on _anything_.

"I support Sean's actions," Zarius said, calmly. "As my enforcer I trust him to carry out his investigation and take whatever actions he needs to." Zarius glanced at Kyle, the young Gangrel who sat in Sean's place. "Have you heard from your sire yet?"

"As a matter of fact I have, my Prince. He is on his way to St. Johnsburry right now, and I believe we may have the best results there. St Johnsburry is primarily Gangrel territory, and unless Benjamin can turn his van into a slug and hide under a rock you can bet we'll find him."

Zarius held back a sigh as Gallant hurled an accusation of disrespect against the Gangrel. Sean would have to have a discussion with his progeny on tact.

"Enough!" He shouted, before the others started in. "Send word to your clans that I want everyone searching for Benjamin and the initiates. This is a Blood Hunt. And all Tremere who willingly turn themselves in will be released once they have submitted to questioning. Any resistance will be punishable by banishment. Mary, call in detectives from the New England Council so that we may have an impartial supplement to Sean's activities. And have your childe call me directly with any new information you discover."

"Yes my Prince."

"Christopher, since Sean and Bastian are setting a wonderful example in pushing their clans to work with one another, I want you to do the same. Aide the Gangrel in watching the border for Sabbat activity."

Christopher was indignant. "My Prince, surely it would only endanger my clan further to go against our own former masters. There is a price on many of our heads to-"

"You will take the same risks we are all taking to protect our territory." Zarius said insistently. "The fate of your clan will be no different than that of ours if the Masquerade or the Camarilla is endangered. Dismissed."


	8. Two Steps Forward One Knife in the Back

I know by now, some of my readers are probably wondering, "Gee Nate, where in the hell is the "love" portion of primogen's love? Don't worry. It's coming, just not for a while. In fact I think this story may end up, "The Primogen's Love, Part One" because there's actually a whole other story behind it the love thing, and while it still involves the Tremere, it stands separately from where this story is going. Plus I hate uber-long stories with a bajillion chapters…

Chapter Eight: Two Steps Forward…One Step Back…

St. Johnsburry was as lively in the week before Christmas as it was any other day. But with tourism steadily on the rise it was that much more active. Benjamin's eyes were very weak during the day but he could sense the hostility that came from every Kindred he spotted.

"We can't stay here long," Gale said, her nervousness betraying her calmness. "The Gangrel are all over here."

Benjamin was ready to kill someone right now. Amanda for leading them here, Gale for continuing to speak out of turn, or even the brat that he had been saddled with. But more killing would draw attention to him, as he was certain Amanda had planned.

_How did I let myself get drawn into her games?_ He asked himself. He considered the cell in his pocket. Would it be so bad if he threw it in the sewers now, left Vermont, and returned to Maine to tell Lazarus of all that has happened here?

But then there were his actions to account for. He'd all ready been here for too long, listening to Amanda's advice in the hopes of gaining his own power block. His ambitions clouded his judgment and in turn he became the tool for her ambitions. Lazarus would behead him in front of the Vienna Motherhouse personally.

Benjamin left the initiates to fill the van with gas while he took a long walk around the town.

St. Johnsburry was more spread out than most Vermont towns. It felt odd to be in such a large area, not hampered in by trees, cliffs, and mountains. And what often fascinated Benjamin was how much the Northeast Kingdom differed from Southwestern Vermont. Where as most of Bennington County's business came from retail outlets and huge corporations, the majority of business throughout the rest of Vermont came from the smaller locally run shops.

Benjamin turned a corner and found himself on a street lined with apartment buildings and houses. It was quieter here with school in session and most of the neighbors at work. But as he walked he suddenly caught the scent of other creatures in the area.

Shape shifters!

Out in the open in broad daylight Benjamin couldn't unsheathe his athame. But he was mostly comforted by the fact that they couldn't touch him.

"Filthy dogs," Benjamin cursed under his breath. He swung his head back and forth looking between alleys, atop buildings, in front of him and behind.

"Is that the killer?" He looked up at the direction of the whisper. No one was there.

"Don't know…But he's the one the vampires want."

"How much are they offering?"

"Sean said a million each for his companions, and a billion for him."

"Come out and face me!" Benjamin shouted. "If you want your reward you'll have to fight for it!"

Benjamin ignored the stares of elderly neighbors who glanced out their windows curiously. As far as they were concerned he was an insane vagrant. His challenge wouldn't endanger the masquerade, and the werewolves wouldn't either.

"I thought not!" He yelled out and started out to look for the others. But wherever he turned the pungent scent of dog fur and saliva reached his palate. He began muttering every protection chant and incantation he could remember, not feeling as confident about his abilities as he should have been, and losing the power in his magick.

Out in the open where the traffic was heaviest no one dared to approach him. Benjamin picked up the scent of his own and tracked them down to a Shell station. Gale was in the station filling up the tank while Dennis filled a large plastic cup with soda.

"In the name of Cain-" Benjamin was about to enter the station when a police car pulled up between him and the door. An officer stepped out with his gun drawn while his partner stepped out with the cuffs ready.

"You're not going anywhere," The officer said as Benjamin turned to the van. A second police car pulled in to block any escape. A few onlookers were gathering on the sidewalk and the patrons in the convenient store were also taking an interst. Benjamin saw Gale standing at the counter, unsure of what to do, but where Dennis stood there was now a half-empty cup of Mountain Dew on the counter.

Inside the store, Dennis was hiding between a rack of candy and a shelf full of cookies, chips and salsa. Running from the police was nothing new to him, but he remembered hearing that many Gangrel were on the police force.

"Hey, are they after him too?" A clerk asked, spotting Dennis.

Gale looked into the clerk's eyes.

"Forget what you've seen just now," she said. "Dennis, come with me."

Dennis scrambled to his feet and followed Gale to the large metal door of the dairy cooler. Just above the crates of milk and creamer was a small window. It wasn't big enough for a person to get through, but a bird of prey could manage well enough.

"Lay low in here," Gale ordered Dennis.

"What are you going to do?" Dennis demanded.

"You're not old enough to use all of your abilities. Stay low and I'll come back for you, I promise."

Gale picked up a bottle of soda from one of the racks and hurled it at the window. The glass smashed easily under its preternatural speed, and a hawk followed it almost instantly. Dennis rubbed his eyes as if he was imagining what he'd just seen. He quickly remembered what Gunn had told him about slipping away if things got rough. Things were getting rough enough for his tastes.

Benjamin struggled as the two officers held him down and cuffed him. The cuffs were bound with a spell, preventing him from breaking free with his preternatural strength. Four more cruisers pulled around the gas station to prevent the remaining Tremere from escaping.

"I suggest you come quietly," the officer said, keeping his voice low so that only Kindred could hear it. "Zarius will want you in one piece, but Sean will cover for us if you go to him in ashes."

Sylvan, Roen and Peter were cuffed and ushered into the other cruisers, remaining as calm as possible under the circumstances. Gale remained in the air, watching as Benjamin was placed in another vehicle. The cruisers drove off while a few officers remained behind to run spin control.

She couldn't risk saving Dennis, not now. Betting heavily that his mortal life as a runaway had taught him a thing or two about dealing with the cops, Gale wished him luck and followed the cruiser carrying Benjamin.

* * *

It was close to sunset by the time they reached St. Johnsburry. Trent was stopped by a policeman for "speeding", and subsequently Sean was informed that three of the Tremere they had been looking for were now apprehended.

"We had to pay a few werewolves who tipped us off," the officer explained. "And to top it off there's gonna be a lot of cover ups for some time."

"We'll take care of that," Trent promised. "Where did you take him?"

An hour and a half later they arrived at the warehouse where Tremere were being held for questioning. Brujah guards sneered at the sight of the Gangrel primogen on their property, but saved their comments for when they were out of earshot. Bastian was clear that they were to cooperate with Sean for the time being.

Trent was on the phone immediately, calling every Ventrue within a hundred mile radius to handle the spin control. He called up Mary, who then called in a few favors from the Toreador. Peterson ordered the Toreador that worked in colleges and universities in the area to try to discourage rumors about the occurrences in St. Johnsburry. Eric was quick to voice his opinion that if James Reed had still been Gangrel primogen this would never have happened. Mary was quick to respond that this had nothing to do with the Gangrel, and to please keep personal feelings out of this. Trent then called Zarius, on request from Mary, at his office.

Good work Trent. Keep me updated on the interrogation process. We've been rounding up quite a few Caitiff here as well. Tell Sean I hope we can have this wrapped up before the San Francisco Prince arrives.

* * *

Sean spent the evening and most of the night interrogating the initiates. There were seven of you, where are the other three? The gangrel didn't kill them, nice try. You face Final Death if you're found guilty of killing in this state. We have evidence of over six human deaths, all by Tremere, and seventeen Gangrel from the time you left Bennington till now. If you cooperate, I'll convince my prince to arrange escort and have you returned to Maine as a gesture of diplomacy to yours. Benjamin…and Amanda you say? I'm listening.

"Human officers arrested a boy later," an officer told Sean. "They say a man named Gunn came along to bail him out. We couldn't get to him in time." The officer glanced at two of the Brujah guards standing beside a holding cell. "Sir, do you need me for anything else here?"

Sean caught the implied tone in the officer's voice.

"Nah, get out of here."

"Thank you sir."

"According to the others, Amanda embraced this kid. If that was " Sean told Trent in a hushed voice. "But Gunn's an Assamite. Why would he be interested in helping out the Tremere?"

"What if it has something to do with Allen?" Trent asked, thoughtfully. "The Tremere put a curse on the Assamites once. What if Amanda put another curse on him which kept him on her leash?"

"That's possible. But then these initiates were innocent pawns."

"But what about Benjamin?"

"Benjamin was running his own show for a while," Sean said, recalling the statements of the initiates. "He's responsible for killing two of his own and one of our cops. But after that they were acting on orders from Amanda."

"So either way we have Benjamin under our leash."

"That's not all we have," Sean said, holding up a cell phone. "This was confiscated off of Benjamin. He's been getting his orders from 'Amanda' who apparently gave this to him."

"You sound skeptical all of a sudden."

"I believe that Amanda is behind all this, but I just don't believe it was her who gave Benjamin the cell phone. Allen attacked us at the plantation and it was another Assamite who bailed 'The Tremere Primogen's' childe from jail."

"Okay, think about this for a second. Gangrel don't normally work with Brujah, and in fact they're mortal enemies. But you're working with them."

"Because it's necessary, but-"

"Yes, for the Masquerade. But maybe the Assamites are working with the Tremere because it's necessary for what they want to happen?"

Sean nodded. "Excellent theory, but what's the motive? What to they gain out of their mutual alliance?"

"Well…I don't know." Trent shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. "Can you give me a few minutes to think about it?"

"Take your time. Grab some coffee and relax for a while. I'm going to interrogate our friend Benjamin and see what he coughs up."

* * *

Gale hid within the shadows of some pine trees, forty-feet from the warehouse where the Brujah held her fellow Initiates, and Benjamin. Through her preternatural vision she could see that there were human and Brujah guards and the humans used prison-bred guard dogs to patrol the area. Four Kindred guards walked in a perimeter around the warehouse, each one about seven feet from the other. When one of them got close enough to sense Gale she took to the air and circled once before returning to her post.

The human guards went out in pairs, with a single dog leading the patrol, stopping to sniff every half foot. Gale noticed hand guns in holsters, strapped to their bodies. It was difficult to say what kind of bullets they were using, but she would have bet her life they were phosphorus. These humans must have known something about their employers and the kind of enemies they had.

The only way of getting to the others was by turning herself in. Gale was responsible for Gangrel deaths, and she would be damned if she'd be responsible for incurring the Brujah's wrath.

Gale returned to bird form and took to the air. Her only hope was getting a hold of Lazarus.

"You told me that my help to your clan wouldn't be forgotten," Sean said. Three Brujah guards stood behind the Tremere journeyman while Sean circled the table. "Killing members of my clan was one hell of a way to repay me."

"I was only following-"

"Orders? That didn't get the Nazis off," Sean stopped in front of the table and leaned forward, getting into Benjamin's face. "I showed mercy to your clan. In spite of the awful things you said against me, and in spite of the terrible experiments you've done to Gangrel over the centuries. Your clan thinks it has the right to manipulate and experiment on everyone, that it has the right to unlife and final death over other vampires. I'm surprised the Camarilla thinks you're one of them."

"My clan is not on trial here," Benjamin retorted, trying to muster his self control. Truth was if he were human, he'd be sweating right now.

"No, it isn't. My clan didn't commit any crimes, but we've still been punished." Sean stepped back a few paces. He turned his back on Benjamin and seemed to study the ceiling for a while. After another minute he turned back to Benjamin and pulled a familiar cell phone from his pocket. "I won't let your crimes against my clan go unpunished. We deserve retribution. But your final death won't bring that to us; otherwise I'd turn you loose on the hundred or so Gangrel who are waiting to rip you apart."

"What do you want from me?" Benjamin asked, a cold chill washing over him.

"Who's been giving you your orders? Where is the missing initiate, the one your subordinates said was missing?"

"The initiate ran off with the neonate at the first opportunity. Her name is Gale. The neonate went by the name of Dennis, and he was sired by the Tremere Primogen in this state."

"Amanda."

"Yes."

"So she was at the mansion with you?"

"I met her there," Benjamin explained. "She gave me the cell phone so she could keep me out of your reach. In Bennington I had nothing to do with the murder of the human girl, I didn't even learn about that until one of your officers interrogated me earlier."

"Then why didn't you return for questioning?"

"I…I was…"

"You were disillusioned. I bet you thought you could get away scot-free free if you killed the cop and ran. But then Amanda saw you as a distraction and she decided to have you cause a distraction up here."

Sean turned away again. Why hadn't he figured it out before? He turned to one of the Brujah guards.

"Do you have a van we can use to bring him back to Bennington?"

"We have several vans in the warehouse," the guard answered. "All of them have coolers for transporting beer and wine."

"Bring him to one of them and give me the keys. I'll have it returned to this warehouse as soon as possible."

"Yes sir."

Sean made a note of the guard's nametag, and resolved to alert Bastian to his helpfulness. He found Trent in the employee's lounge enjoying one of the cold Starbucks coffee drinks from the vending machine.

"Did you get anything out of Benjamin?"

"Oh yes," Sean said, checking out the vending machine. "And he should be more than enough evidence to prove Amanda's guilt."

"Maybe you should call Zarius and let him know."

"No. Amanda might find out he knowsand do something desperate. There's a reason why she's doing all this, and Benjamin doesn't know anything."

"What makes you so sure?"

"He's on a leash. Amanda wanted us looking after him while she played her game. You've seen his judgment so far. Stopping in a city controlled by Gangrel and our werewolf allies, killing his own subordinates and humans…plus the way he acted at the conclave…I think she saw him as the perfect patsy."

Trent was about to say something elsewhen the cell phone in Sean's hand rang. It was Benjamin! Eyes widened, Sean placed his finger to his lips and flipped it open.

* * *

"This is Elizabeth, I'm looking for Benjamin. Oh…you're one of the initiates?" Elizabeth looked to Amanda, confused.

An evil grin spread across Amanda's face. She had to hold back from laughing. She urged Elizabeth to go on.

"Okay…I need Benjamin to do one more thing for me. I think Sean, the Gangrel Primogen may suspect something, and I need him killed. Good."

"How could you?" Amanda shouted when Elizabeth hung. When Elizabeth and crossing the room in an instant. Elizabeth dropped the phone. "How dare you endanger this clan with your personal games?"

"B-b-but Primgoen I-"

Amanda withdrew her knife and plunged it into Elizabeth's heart. "This is the price of treachery young one. Such a pity. You'll never get to recite the lesson I have taught you."


	9. The Childe's Suspicions

Chapter 9: The Childe's Suspicions

"Well that's strange," Trent commented, when Sean hung up the phone. He had heard Elizabeth with his own preternatural hearing.

"Very," Sean responded. He seemed unsure of whether or not he was angry or confused. He placed the phone on the table and went to the vending machine. After buying himself an apple juice he sat down across from Trent. "Amanda's thought this out. There'd be almost no evidence against her now if she set that girl up."

"And who would believe a lowly initiate anyway," Trent added. "Amanda probably had Elizabeth call you so it would throw you off the trail."

"We still have Benjamin and the initiates' testimonies. I still want to wait until we can speak to Zarius in private. Let's allow Amanda to think she's in the clear for a while, it might make her slip up."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Return to Bennington with Benjamin. Mary's going to need you to help with arrangements at the resort. I need to take your car and see if I can find the Assamites. When you get to Bennington, let Zarius know that we suspect a traitor, and tell him why I won't tell him who it is yet. I think he'll understand."

"You got it. Just be careful with my car okay, it was a birthday present." As an afterthought he added, "I probably shouldn't go alone. I wonder if I could get the Brujah to come with me."

"I'll ask them to spare a guard or two. I'll owe Bastian a couple favors but it'll be worth it."

"Forgive me my Prince," Gale said over the phone. "I take full responsibility for our actions in Vermont."

"Don't worry about that now," Lazarus replied. "The situation Vermont Chantry is what we must deal with. You were right to contact me."

"I do not wish to speak against my superiors."

"A noble cause. But Amanda and Benjamin have endangered our clan and its integrity. They have violated our laws and the laws of Zarius' territory. If we do not handle the situation swiftly and silently the Tremere will have a war that it cannot win."

"What do you ask of me, my Prince?"

"I am authorizing you to locate and execute Benjamin. Once he is dead return to Vermont. We will deal with Amanda more subtly."

The conversation ended and Gale held the receiver for a long time before placing it back on the cradle. The darkness faded entirely from the sky now and she needed to feed if she was going to survive the sunrise.

* * *

With new cell phones-generously provided by the Brujah-Sean and Trent went in different directions. Two guards sat with Benjamin in the cooler while a third drove the van. Trent sat in the passenger seat wearing a bullet proof vest beneath his new business suit.

Sean accepted the offer of new clothes, but declined the vest and the gun; for fear that it would attract unwanted attention. He was going alone and at his own risk.

"I wish you would have taken a guard along with you at least," Trent admitted over the phone.

"The Brujah have done their part." Sean replied. "And if something goes wrong out here, at least we can keep them from being dragged into it. I gotta let you go."

"Call me when you get back?"

"Definitely." Sean placed the phone back in his pocket. He followed route seven, back to St. Johnsburry, where the neonate had been arrested. He thought about telling his Gangrel to detain the Assamites too, but that would have been pointless. Assamites were particularly apt at not being found, and they were very selectively sired. Only on rare occasions did one become forcibly embraced as with other clans

The roads were soaked as snow and ice ran off from the cliffs. Sean rolled the window down to let the cool air fill the car and rolled it back up quickly. The day was mostly clear, and Sean wondered if it would last through to Christmas.

Sean idly wondered if Mary would have to use fake snow for the skiers, and if she would lose much business to Killington and Mount Snow this year. He wondered how much Richard would spend on advertising this year, and what his thoughts were on keeping Kindred and humans from clashing.

_I could use a vacation,_ He thought. It had been seven years since he took a break from the normal flow of life. In fact, the last time he'd had a vacation was the year before he was sired. The year made him think of someone he had known back then.

_Jason,_ the name ran across his mind. Jason would have graduated from high school last year. A memory of a high school freshman came to mind. He was only a foot shorter than Sean with dyed blond hair and brown eyes. At times he could seem a little slow, but his talents with video production equipment and sound systems were outstanding. And Sean hadn't seen him for over seven years.

Since he never got to see his own funeral, Sean wondered how Jason had taken it when he "disappeared". He remembered the shock on Kyle and Andrew's face, when he approached them after becoming a vampire. Hell, he even remembered Trent's reaction after Mary embraced him. Would Jason be just as shocked if Sean approached him now?

* * *

An unearthly squeal emanated from the amp. A human might not have noticed it until many weeks had gone by and the problem had grown worse, but Jeff picked up on it quickly. In moments the tool kit was opened and the wires were being adjusted and replaced.

"I blew it, I just know it." Kyle groaned nearby.

"You must have done all right." Jeff said off handedly. "Mr. Peterson doesn't talk about you as much as he talks about Sean lately."

"Mr. Peterson always talks about Sean," Kyle pointed out. "Accept when he's reviewing some play."

Jeff examined a red wire for a minute. After deciding it wasn't the offending part he moved on to the speaker itself.

"How are you guys dealing with everything?"

"Most of us couldn't care less." Jeff answered, honestly. "I was thinking of writing a song about it. But Sean might not appreciate it."

Kyle's beeper went off. He asked Jeff if he could use their phone and excused himself to take the call. Mrs. Cabrall, one of his clients pulled a virus off the Internet. She needed to get it fixed immediately before it destroyed her work.

"I have to get going," He told Jeff. "So you'll be at the resort this Christmas?"

"Yeah, Eric's paying us a fortune. Says he wants to make the San Francisco's prince stay a memorable one. I think he just wants a chance to slip the prince and his girlfriend free tickets to Oldcastle so they'll donate money."

Kyle laughed and said goodbye. He got into his jeep and began the drive to Shaftsburry. There were times when he wished he had been sired into Toreador and not Gangrel. Even though his creative skills were limited to the computers he built and the video games he programmed, Kyle once had a longing to play the guitar professionally. At sixteen he even bought an electric one out of his own pocket. But like many of his dreams the fantasy of being a local legend faded away.

More or less, Kyle hoped Sean wouldn't regret leaving Kyle in charge of the clan. He wasn't entirely sure the rest supported him, and while Kyle was helpful in a crisis, he didn't have much confidence in his long term plans. If it didn't have microchips, wires, and plastic casing, Kyle was lost.

_Typical Gangrel, _Kyle chided himself as he passed the Green Mountain Christian Center. _Let's face it; Sean sired you for a reason._

Mrs. Cabrall lived high on dirt road called Town Line West. The trees were thick on either side, accept where someone's lawn began and ended. Out to the left Kyle could see the snow covered Mount Equinox and the swamp and farmland that spread westward. The road itself got slippery in some parts, but Kyle was used to driving through rural areas so it didn't bother him much.

Almost immediately after finishing the job another call came through on the beeper. This time it was Zarius.

"Well, the virus is gone Mrs. Cabrall," Kyle announced proudly. "And I was able to get most of your work back. You have all your recent documents and some of your files going back three months. Everything else was deleted or too infected to save."

"Kyle, you're a lifesaver," Mrs. Cabrall praised.

"I hate to ask, but if I promise not to bill you would you let me use your phone?"

"Of course you may."

Kyle dialed the prince's number.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting-" Kyle couldn't say, my prince. Instead he substituted it for "Sir" and said it with equal reverence.

"That's all right Kyle," Zarius replied. "I need you're assistance here at the college. I can't talk about it over the phone."

"I can be there in an hour."

"Thank you."

Kyle said thank you to Mrs. Cabrall and made his way to SVC as fast as the law would allow. He took as many back roads as possible and tried to avoid areas where he knew traffic would be heavy. Kyle was glad that the new bypass had finally gone up, as it relieved the preholiday congestion a little.

* * *

The campus was still heavily covered in snow. Kyle stopped at the security booth but was quickly waved through. The roofs of the gymnasium and the dormitories were still partially covered in snow, and there were large piles of it built up around the cafeteria. Some students snowboarded on the hill; others built snowmen and had snowball fights. Kyle took the road up towards the mansion. Through the trees he could see the red tiled rooftops of the hundred year old building. He found a parking space and quickly made his way inside, not wanting to keep the prince waiting.

Zarius was in the meeting room along with the Tremere primogen, Amanda. Zarius sat at the head of the table while Amanda sat to his right. There was an empty chair at his left across from her.

"I hope I'm not late my Prince," Kyle said, nervously.

"Of course not, Kyle, but as interim primogen your presence is required." Zarius gestured to the empty seat and then turned to Amanda. "I'll let you speak."

Kyle took his seat and listened attentively.

"It is with great regret, and utmost embarrassment that I must inform you of the traitor within my clan's ranks." Amanda began, with sincerity. "I came upon one of our initiates speaking with someone, possibly one of the insubordinate creatures who trespassed into Vermont and violated the Masquerade. She had been…orchestrating the murders of Gangrel in the area in order to cover up for her own doings here. While your primogen has been chasing the Maine Tremere all over Vermont, Elizabeth was siring Caitiff who were also taking attention away from her."

"Why?" Kyle asked.

Amanda shook her head. "I have no way of knowing. When I confronted her she ran into a sunlit room and impaled herself. My experts say she had been starving herself for sometime, possibly as a means of escaping persecution."

"The point is, the evidence points to this Elizabeth as the one behind the murders," Zarius interjected. "She and some unknown accomplices killed the girl out by the high school, and now she is dead. Kyle, do you have any other questions."

Kyle thought for a moment. Sean would have had a million questions by this time, but they weren't coming to him. One did stand out though.

"How was this girl calling the guy from Maine?" He asked, looking from Zarius to Amanda.

"She was using a cellular phone," Amanda answered, producing the device and placing it on the table. "I don't know if you can sense her impressions on it yet, but the Prince has held it and he confirmed it was hers."

Zarius nodded.

"She must have given Benjamin one that only she knew the number to," she added. "But I can only speculate."

"Sounds like pretty wild speculation," Kyle commented. "I just find it hard to believe this girl could sneak around you like that. From what I've heard about Tremere you guys are pretty strict. Your initiates can't take a leak without you knowing about it."

Zarius didn't say a word, but kept his eye on the young Gangrel. Amanda didn't seem phased.

"She was particularly clever. The Tremere Clan has very few requirements for initiations. I won't go into great detail, but some intuitive qualities are major requirements for our clan and Elizabeth was an exceptionally talented childe. The Gangrel are known for their exceptional Kindred, are they not?"

Kyle shrugged. Something in Amanda's words bothered him, but he knew he'd have to wait for Sean to find out what it was. He looked at the phone.

"Can I take that?" He asked Zarius. "Sean might want to look at it later."

"I'll keep it safe until his return," Zarius answered. "In the meantime, you have a decision to make. Kyle Watson, as interim primogen you have the right to exact retribution from the Tremere, for the loss your clan has suffered."

"Retribution…" Kyle asked embarrassed.

"Revenge," Amanda clarified patiently. "Ask what you will of me, and I will do it, so that I may compensate your clan for the actions of the initiate."

Kyle nodded. He took a few more minutes to think about it. Something was too easy about all of this, and it all surrounded the cell phone. But he couldn't pass up the opportunity to do something really big for his clan that would earn their respect. He could only think of one thing.

"My prince, this is my request." He said, not sure if he was being ceremonial or not. "In…retribution…I would like it if my clan could make more vampires, uh, Kindred."

"Is that all?"

"No," Kyle said after some more thought. "That's only part of it. I would like it if Amanda could record what she said to me on tape, word for word."

At this Amanda was taken aback. Zarius permitted a small grin.

"My prince, this is a bit outrageous-" Amanda protested.

"I think it is a reasonable enough request." Zarius said. "I believe we have a number of recorders in the building, it could be done before much time goes by. As for the request for Free Embrace, Kyle, I grant you your request until the end of January. The Vermont Gangrel may embrace freely without my consent, but they will need either yours or Sean's. All other rules of the Masquerade apply."

"Thank you, my Prince."

"Amanda, will you be kind enough to fetch a tape recorder and return with it expediently? Professor Echelby keeps several in his desk."

Amanda couldn't refuse an order from her prince. So she left the room without a word, leaving Zarius and Kyle alone. Zarius broke the silence between them.

"If I may ask, what do you suspect?"

"Sir?" Kyle was caught off guard.

"Your questions, your request," Zarius said. "I felt like you were suspicious of something. That seems very unlike you."

"Oh, well…I mean no disrespect to Amanda." Kyle said. His nervousness had faded in the last few minutes, but he was still worried about stepping on toes. "But with all due respect, this just seems kind of convenient. I knew Sean before he was embraced, and you couldn't put much past him then."

Zarius nodded in recognition. He remembered James Reed's impressions of the young hunter and his own impressions the nights following Sean's embrace.

"Well, I think there's more to this than we're seeing. Something doesn't feel right to me, and what's weird is that I know Sean would have picked this up right away. I just couldn't figure it out so I couldn't say anything."

"You think Sean will discover something from Amanda's words?"

"Yes. If he listens to it just once."

"I agree." Zarius picked the phone up and looked at it. "As interim primogen, I can confide this in you. But I can tell that Tremere magic has been placed on this phone. The impressions are of the initiate that Amanda named, but the impressions are far too strong for a mere initiate. The Gangrel have been repaid for now, but if it turns out Amanda is lying there will be further retributions…"

"From the whole territory," Kyle finished.

"Yes. Will you be willing to help me?"

"Of course my prince. Let me do what I can with the phone, and I'll have evidence for you by the end of the week."

Zarius handed Kyle the phone. Kyle pocketed it swiftly as Amanda entered the room with the recorder.

"Now remember," Zarius said. "Kyle wants your speech word for word. And I have a very good memory, so I would like you to be honest."

"Yes, my prince." Amanda said with a heavy sigh.


	10. A Single Tear

A/N: I wanted to go a while without an A/N, but what the hell. This chapter's a couple of pages short, sorry. I hope no one is cheated by the end of it, I just thought it was a good enough pre-cliff hanger-cliff hanger.

Chapter 10: A Single Tear

Rain fell upon the city of Portland. Wind and waves crashed against the shores biting any unlucky passerby with a slap of icy cold spray. The ferry to Peak Island was closed down, much to the chagrin of patrons who were desperate to get home. Water taxis, fishing boats, and yachts were stranded in the harbor. Winter in Maine was both a beautiful and violent time. Within the walls of Lazarus' Conclave things were equally so.

Tremere presence in the city of Portland constituted forty percent of the Kindred living there. The Ventrue, Malkavians, and Toreador were the only other clans with a permanent settlement.

Lazarus was dressed in full ceremonial robes. His brown hair was cut in military fashion and his face appeared chiseled from stone. His gray eyes lent beauty to his militant composure and his arms folded neatly across his chest showed the primogen at this table that he was not one to be toyed with. If one could be a model Prince and the Leader of a Tremere Chantry, it was Lazarus.

"The Council of New England has chosen not to take sides in this matter," he spoke in a monotone voice. "They feel that the matter involving the Kindred under my care is to be settled between ourselves and the Vermont clans. By Tremere law, Amanda Capron will be put to Final Death if she is found guilty of the crimes that were brought to my attention. But I know we all have concerns about the Vermont Clan and its recent actions. The table is open to you now."

"The Gangrel primogen is behind this," the Malkavian primogen spoke up. "It was a mistake giving a kindred slayer the gift of eternal life. And it was an even bigger mistake to make him primogen of that area."

"That matter has been discussed since 1996," the Toreador primogen replied. "Let's drop it for the sake of argument. And in any case at least he's with the Camarilla. What about the Sabbat member?"

"Are you so certain he is Sabbat anymore?" The Ventrue primogen asked. "From what I hear he and his Lasombra are aiding clans in Vermont in preventing other Sabatt from entering the country."

"Once a Sabbat, always a Sabbat."

Lazarus listened while the flurry of arguments arose. He had learned long ago to bring order to his thoughts, from the chaos that came outside. Plans of war brewed in his mind in the hopes of gaining Vermont as a Tremere territory. He'd have to get through New Hampshire's Brujah first, but he was certain the power of his Chantry could overcome them.

Time was a factor of course. With Amanda and Benjamin's stunt Vermont would all ready be on defense against the Tremere. Lazarus raised a hand to silence the primogen.

"The council has spoken on the matter of the Sabatt and the Kindred Slayer." He said. "We can do nothing to change that. Nothing directly that is…"

Lazarus let the implication hang in the air. It was slightly amusing how Amanda believed she was the mistress of manipulation. One by one he could see the wheels of calculation grinding within the primogen's minds. One by one he could tell that each primogen was all ready deciding what he could do to make things difficult in Vermont.

"In the meantime," He went on. "I will personally go to Vermont to apprehend Amanda, and negotiate for her release into my custody, so that she is punished by Tremere standards and not Nosferatu."

"You imply that Zarius will treat her with amnesty after what she has done?" The Ventrue asked.

"I imply that Zarius will make her death swift, and I want to preserve the laws of my clan. I will enter his territory in order to extract her before they even know I was there."

Lazarus adjourned the meeting, and the Malkavian returned to his home to make a phone call.

"So how long have you been Kindred?" Trent asked out of curiosity. They were on the highway again, making their way through Stowe.

"'Bout thirty years," the Brujah muttered.

He clearly wasn't in to conversation right now. Trent sighed and leaned on the armrest, gazing out the window as the cliffs became pastures. The sun was setting in the west, and he watched it until he fell asleep.

An hour later he awoke to the fifth ring of his cell phone.

"Hello," He said groggily.

"Trent?" It was Mary.

"Yes ma'am. You got my message I take it."

"Yes, I did excellent work. Are you on your way back to Bennington now?"

"Yeah, we should be there in a couple of hours."

"Good. You probably have company so I won't get into detail, but I need to speak with you soon. Are you busy tomorrow evening?"

"Nope. I don't think Sean will need any more of my help, but I do have to speak to Zarius."

"All right, see him first and then come to me as soon as you can."

"I will."

"Get home safe Trent."

Trent looked forward to being home again. The events of the past three nights were exhausting. He was glad to have survived his ordeal with Allen, but he was also very nervous about having Benjamin in the cooler behind him.

"I really appreciate you're help," He said to the driver. "I was always told the Brujah were money grubbing gang…"

A sideward glare from the driver shut Trent up. The taste of foot was strong in his tongue when he fell back to sleep.

* * *

Sean found the precinct where the girl was being held. Sarah Matterson was her full name. And they were getting ready to transfer her to New Hampshire. He was thankful to get the chance to speak with her first.

Sarah told him everything. About how she and her boyfriend Dennis were on the run and hoped to be together for along time. They stopped at the house on a tip from a stranger, and they stopped there to rest. When they woke up Sarah found a wallet full of cash and an empty house. She took the cash and ran until the cops finally picked her up.

"Can you remember anything else?" Sean asked.

"I'm sorry, no." The girl seemed confused. "You look too young to be a cop."

"I'm uh…" Sean tried to grasp for a reasonable explanation. "I'm a genius. I graduated early and went to the police academy after high school."

"Wow…" Sarah said, mock impressed. "Do you tell everyone that or did you come up with it on the spot?"

"I came up with it on the spot." Sean glanced towards the one-sided mirror and was thankful no one stood behind it. "Don't take this the wrong way, but-" Sean focused as he spoke. "You were getting sleepy just now, and you were dreaming the last fifteen minutes."

Sarah seemed to get groggy in a short amount of time. Sean got up and signaled the officer who waited outside the room.

"She's getting tired; you better take her back to her cell."

Sean located the officer who helped him, a Ventrue by the name of Coleman.

"Did you get what you needed from her?" He asked.

"Not a thing." Sean collapsed in the chair beside Coleman's desk. "Has anyone been by here to pick her up?"

Coleman shrugged. "A social worker is supposed to be here shortly."

"Do you know anything about this social worker?"

"Only that it's a woman. We'll have to verify her identification of course but…" Coleman trailed off as he went to a coffee machine. He returned with a Styrofoam cup and handed it to Sean.

"Thanks." Sean sipped the hot liquid. "I think I want to stake the place out. There anyway you could arrange that for me?"

Coleman shrugged. "I don't see why not. Any reason why?"

"Call it a hunch. But believe me when I say a lot of lives are in the balance here, and I've run out of options. Can I count on your support?"

"Of course."

* * *

Kyle's hands flew over the computer keys at impossible speeds. It was possible he was this good before being embraced, but he couldn't imagine it, nor could he actually remember being any better now. Piracy was one of his specialties, and Sean never failed to make his opinions clear on it. If you couldn't pay for the movie or video game you had no right to own it. Ironically, it was when Kyle began learning to master hacking that the Kindred took an interest in him, and allowed Sean to embrace him.

The cell phone itself rested on the cluttered desk beside Kyle's personal computer. What magick had not been able to do was prevent Kyle from finding the cell phone number and determining which company serviced it. It was a Boston based company called Distance Wireless. Finding the website and breaking into the company's database was easy enough. And with his enhanced reflexes and reaction time he was able to get past the anti-virus and firewalls without triggering any alarms.

_That's a lot of security for a cell phone company, _Kyle thought. He wondered briefly if the people running this company might not be Gangrel as well.

Kyle checked the records from Customer Service against the list of people working in Amanda's Chantry. There were over forty-thousand customers listed and neither one lived in Vermont. Distance Wireless serviced most of Eastern Mass, New Hampshire, and parts of Maine. Though many of the Tremere in the chantry were from Maine none of them showed up on the customer service lists.

He tried the Billing and Receiving records to see where bills were coming from in the last month. His eyes stopped on a Maine address. A customer by the name of Leigh Zeus made a payment last month, but oddly enough it didn't come from Maine. It was a Vermont address, and it was highlighted in red, along with an animated Warning GIF. Beneath the address was a note to sales reps: House has been condemned. Possible fraud suspected.

_But then how come it wasn't shut off?_

Kyle printed out the address and saved the customer service list. The name "Leigh Zeus" sounded odd enough, and although a lot of people had weird names now a days it was worth showing to Zarius. Someone might also come up on the list that Zarius recognized. Kyle slipped all the information into a folder and popped it in his desk before taking a brief nap. His abilities were too weak for him to detect the Tremere sneaking up to the house, armed with maltov cocktails.

* * *

A violent tremor woke Sean from his sleep. Concerned, an officer came over to the tiny couch where he'd been sleeping.

"Are you all right?" She asked, kindly.

"Just a…" Sean tried to find the words for it. "Bad feeling I guess."

"Do you need something?"

Sean sat up and took a good look around the break room. There was no one else here.

"As a matter of fact…"

A second later the officer left to start her shift. She didn't seem to notice the tiny bite marks on the side of her neck.

Sean tried to brush the feeling off, but it wouldn't go away. It was three in the morning, and Sean couldn't go back to sleep. Coleman was keeping watch on the precinct while officers came and went. Occasionally a criminal was brought in for DUI or drugs and thrown in the tank. Sean could sense the girl in a private cell, sleeping like a baby. She was so calm in this situation, neither afraid nor upset. It was almost like a life on the run was ordinary for her. If she weren't from New Hampshire, Sean would have gladly marked her as a potential fledgling.

The feeling was brought back by the thought of his progeny. His thoughts were on Kyle, the first of his childer. Kyle was his best friend in mortal life, next to Trent. It wasn't until a few years after his own embrace that Sean was allowed to embrace Kyle. Andrew came along shortly after that, having been held back once in high school in spite of his incredible intelligence. His third childe, a boy by the name of Aaron, was currently in Montreal, the city of his birth. Nothing happened to either one of them, Sean was certain. But that tremor was unmistakably the same tremor that James Reed once described to him. A feeling like your heart had just stopped for a second time…like something inside had just been torn out. Coleman came in to get some water, and sensed Sean's distressed.

"What's wrong?"

Sean looked up as a tear trickled down his cheek. "I someone I love has been hurt…"


	11. Blood Spilled for Little Gain

Chapter 11: Blood Spilled for Little Gain

Gale flew high above the roads of Pownal. She'd spent the evening and most of the day following the truck which carried Benjamin. It wasn't easy of course, with the truck moving fifty miles an hour and her hawk form just barely managing to keep up. But now that the roads were getting riskier for the driver she was able to get closer.

On either side of the road, if the truck turned just the wrong way, it would end up crashing into a ditch. It might not be enough to cause an explosion, but it would confuse things while she made quick work of Benjamin. The others need never know she had been there.

Gale folded her wings and dived.

Trent was dead asleep as the truck wound its way through Pownal's back roads. It was comforting being back in the town he grew up in, and it wouldn't be long before they were back in Bennington.

Suddenly, something caused the driver to curse and yank the steering wheel hard to the left. Trent woke up, startled, "No don't-"

It was too late. The truck veered off the right sliding down a hill. The guard tried to hit the breaks but it was useless as ice and slush flew everywhere. Younger trees were snapped in half as it barreled downwards.

"Jump!" The guard shouted.

"What?"

"Jump now!"

Trent struggled to open the passenger door as the guard leapt from the driver's seat.

The guard hit the ground hard, grabbing a dead bush to keep from falling further. He looked down as the truck slid further.

"Kid! Get out of there!"

The truck finally hit a rock and flipped over onto its side. There was no sign of the Ventrue, or his own guys climbing out. It slid further down until it finally hit a muddy bank. Fortunately, the gas tank didn't explode. The guard waited while his injuries and lacerations healed themselves.

He scanned the area above and below. At the truck he could see the other guards struggling to get the cooler door opened. The guard got to his feet and used his preternatural abilities to keep his balance as he moved towards the vehicle to help.

Something hard hit him from behind and he stumbled forward. Shock preceded the pain as his stomach was torn apart by a jagged tree stump. His sight began to fade as a hawk flew towards the truck and transformed.

Gale stood before the truck as the rear door slid open. One armed Brujah and one badly injured Tremere were all that survived the crash. The remaining Brujah flew to hard into the front of the cabin and Benjamin was struggling to get free of his restraints.

"Stay where you are!" The remaining guard shouted, raising his gun.

Gale looked down on the guard, who was still crawling on his hands and knees to get free of the truck. She held back a grin and simply held out her hand. Though she was still learning many things her telekinesis was considerably advanced. It was one of the skills she used most often to impress the Vermont Wiccans.

The gun flew from the guard's hand and into hers, flipping itself around so she could slip her finger around the trigger. She fired once and the Brujah exploded in a cloud of smoke.

Something brushed past her and it didn't take her long to realize it was Benjamin. He snuck up behind her and threw his arms around her. She struggled against his powerful body as he leaned in to speak, "Why this betrayal?"

"I am not betraying anyone," Gale replied. "I am acting as my prince has instructed me."

She strained her arm to place the gun at Benjamin's head. Benjamin let go and leapt from her range. Gale looked around, reaching out with her senses but finding nothing.

"The prince is most displeased with your actions. By his power bestowed upon him by the Motherhouse I have been charged with this responsibility. You have been sentenced to Final Death."

"Then you die an honorable death."

Gale felt a sudden spasm of heat grow from within her. A flame overwhelmed her body and began to consume her.

"Ahhhhhh!"

Benjamin appeared in front of her as she fell to her hands and knees. The snow beneath her began to melt and the ground became muddier.

"I'll face the prince myself," he said, looking the initiate in the eye as she burned. "But I'll be damned if I'll let a childe end me."

"In that case…you're damned."

Benjamin frowned. He turned around slowly to see a badly injured vampire childe with a rifle in his one good arm. The sound of gun fire echoed throughout the hills, and the subsequent explosion ricocheted even louder.

Trent dropped the rifle and fell to his knees. Blood soaked his clothes and everywhere else, but he didn't have enough strength to replace it. He exchanged a look with the now smoldering Tremere. Though she was now well beyond communication, he thought he could see a sign of gratefulness in her eyes.

"You're welcome," He said. And then he fell to his side and slipped into torpor.

Snow fell over Bennington once more. The occasional police cruiser and the random evening motorist were the only people on the road this evening. Silence gripped the tiny city like a vice, choking the sound but allowing the life to breathe.

Silently they walked towards the building. Some in groups, some alone, some in human form others as animals. Bats hung from the light posts, keeping a silent vigil on the Chantry. Several wolves congregated near the house while "investigators" searched it for evidence.

There was a new blood hunt now. And this time there were new retributions to be had. Only this time it wasn't just the Gangrel who had been wronged. Gangrel, Brujah, and Ventrue, all had a score to settle with the Tremere. Happy to see the Tremere getting what they had coming, the Tzcimizse were only too eager to help with the search, and they used every locator spell they knew of. The Lasombra had been ordered to help out in anyway possible and the Toreador and the Nosferatu were staying out of it.

As Zarius' enforcer Sean was authorized to take whatever actions were necessary

"She must have seen this coming," Andrew told Sean. "Amanda and Tanith cleared out of here long ago."

"They might have gone to New York," Another Gangrel suggested. "Bastian has a reward for her capture and that would make New Hampshire a suicide run."

"I have Gangrel all over the bypass and every other road going right through to Troy." Andrew said. "I even have them checking the wild areas where she might try to hide out."

Sean was resolutely silent the whole day and evening. Rage burned within him like a roaring fire on a steady diet of gasoline. When nothing could be done in the town he returned to the college and sat in the student lounge. The human students paid him no notice and the Kindred gave him a glance over and a reverent greeting. Sean shut them all out.

When the rage finally subsided it was almost two in the morning. Christmas Eve was still a week away. To his surprise, Mary stepped into the lounge and sat down in one of the chairs. Sean was lying down on the sofa staring up at the ceiling. A heavy clump of snow slid off the roof, making the only noise for a while. It was Mary who broke the silence.

"I wonder what I'll do with his present."

"What?" Sean said, not looking up.

"His present, Trent's I mean. Of course I give them to all my children," Mary went on. "I wasn't too sure what to get him, his tastes changed so often in the last five years. Well, you remember of course."

Sean didn't say anything.

"Trent had such a passion for the world and the way it worked. He never hated anyone really, even if they did especially evil things to others. He wouldn't have hated Benjamin or Amanda."

"I lost my best friend and my childe to Tremere bullshit," Sean said, the rage threatening to rekindle again. "I'm not in the mood to hear how I should forgive and forget."

"And I never want you to forget," Mary said firmly. "I want you to remember Trent and Kyle and the people they were. Don't become so consumed with vengeance that you forget the people you loved."

"I'll never forget them."

"Good. Because Zarius needs to know you can still lead the Gangrel. You should hear him speak of you Sean. Zarius was impressed with the way you forced your clan to work with the Brujah, ignoring clan rivalry to serve all Kindred."

"I blackmailed Bastian."

"However you did it. The time to make a decision is coming near, and neither of the Tremere are being too helpful in locating their primogen."

Sean sat up so he could look directly at Mary.

"Kyle was doing some investigative work on Amanda's cell phone wasn't he?"

Mary smiled. The old Sean was coming back.

"Yes. Zarius also asked me to give you this." Mary produced a blank cassette tape. "Kyle suspected something from Amanda, and he and Zarius asked her to record something she had said."

"He knew I'd find something," Sean said. He took the tape and held it in his hands, remembering Kyle. "I'm never gonna find another one like him."

"Never." Mary agreed, placing her hand on Sean's knee. "If you live to be a million years old, no one will ever be quite like Kyle. I know because no one will ever replace Trent either. That pain must be even deeper for you since you knew and loved him before we met."

"If you knew…" Sean thought for a moment. "That is, knowing what you know now…would you do this all over again?"

Mary smiled as she rose from the seat. Before she left the room she stopped and looked at him.

"You know the answer to that."

"It is with great regret, and utmost embarrassment that I must inform you of the traitor within my clan's ranks. I came upon one of our initiates speaking with someone, possibly one of the insubordinate creatures who trespassed into Vermont and violated the Masquerade. She had been…orchestrating the murders of Gangrel in the area in order to cover up for her own doings here. While your primogen has been chasing the Maine Tremere all over Vermont, Elizabeth was siring Caitiff who were also taking attention away from her."

Sean rewound the tape and played it again. He was sitting in the office of one of the professors, who was away for the Christmas Break.

"It is with great regret, and utmost embarrassment that I must inform you of the traitor within my clan's ranks."

Rewind and play again.

"-great regret, and utmost embarrassment that I must inform you of the traitor within my clan's ranks."

Not there. Fast forward.

"-came upon one of our initiates speaking with someone, possibly one of the insubordinate creatures who trespassed into Vermont and violated the Masquerade."

He could sense the deceit in her voice. Although this was Amanda repeating what she said for the recorder, the lies were still as strong as if she were standing there talking to him. But by now it was obvious she was the culprit.

"Why didn't I act on my instincts," he berated himself.

Sean checked his e-mail for any messages from Kyle. There was a new letter from James Reed, and two more letters from Aaron in Canada. The first one said that Aaron and the Montreal Gangrel successfully cleared out a derelict apartment building used by the Setites. The second one was a request to confirm that Kyle was now dead. Word traveled fast in the Kindred community. Sean typed up a brief response and invited Aaron to come down as there would likely be a funeral service for both Kyle and Trent. He hesitated to add Merry Christmas.

There was a knock at his door. Sean looked up and saw Gunn and a dark skinned boy standing in the hall.

"Where the hell have you been?" Sean demanded, standing up.

"Please," Gunn held out his hands. "Let me explain. The Assamites were wronged as much as you were."

"Well it's funny how I remember Allen attacking _us_."

"Allen was not entirely under his own control." Gunn said, turning to the neonate beside him. "This is Dennis. He was innocently dragged into all of this. Let him tell you what he knows."

Sean considered it for a second. Then he sat down and gestured that they do the same. He listened quietly, letting his anger died down as Dennis said what he had to say. He spoke briefly about his life in New Hampshire and his choice to take Sarah and run for better or for worse. And finally he ended with his embrace by Allen, and how the other Tremere thought he was Amanda.

"Allen had been meeting with Amanda secretly," Gunn said when Dennis was finished. "We knew he had to have some reason so we didn't question him. You know our clan is dwindling here, with just five or six Assamites in the entire New England area."

"So Allen thought Amanda might make things good for you if he went along with what he asked." Sean summed up. "And when she found out that he likes to play by his own rules she took control of him. That doesn't give us Amanda."

"Actually," Dennis spoke up. "The phone that the girl called you with…wasn't Amanda's."

"Ivan Rochbergh is our new primogen," Gunn said. "He ordered me to get Dennis out of the police station, and then he located the phone service Amanda's phone was connected to. A Boston based service called Distance Wireless."

"Never heard of them."

"Few people have. They serve a localized area of Boston and Maine. Ivan ordered a contact of his to do some detective work and he discovered that the phone Amanda was using was not listed to her, but to a main named Leigh Zeus."

Sean was confused for a minute. Then he remembered something about Amanda's past.

"Lazarus?" He thought out loud.

Gunn nodded.

"She was trying to get him to come out here," Dennis explained. "So she kept causing trouble here in Vermont and using his cell phone so that if Benjamin couldn't lure him out his cell phone bill could."

Sean smacked himself on the head.

"I never figured it out."

"Amanda had this all planned to the letter," Gunn said, assuring. "We didn't even see it coming."

"Will you bring that to Edgar?" Sean asked. "He can track her down with his location magic."

"I'll do it. But Dennis has a request to make of you."

Sean raised an eyebrow.

"It's about Sarah," Dennis said. "We got her out of the police station. I love her and I want her to be with me forever."

"I can't give you permission to embrace her. That's up to Ivan and the prince."

"I don't want her to be an Assamite. I accept what happened to me and I'll serve my clan now that I know what's expected of me. But I know you guys have a free embrace…and, I think Sarah would make an excellent Gangrel."

Sean sighed and sat back in his chair. He looked from Dennis to Gunn.

"How old is she?"

"She'll be eighteen next October."

"Alright, in honor of the help you've given me and my clan and because you lost your primogen through his poor judgment…when she is old enough I will embrace her."

"But why can't you embrace her now? You were sixteen and I'm seventeen now."

"You and I were embraced under tight circumstances. I've got laws I have to obey just like you do now. That being said, Sarah can't know anything about Kindred until the time before she's embraced. And even then she must be given the choice."

Gunn placed a hand on Dennis's shoulder.

"Thank you," Dennis said, catching the cue.

With a customary bow from Gunn, the two Assamites went to Edgar. Sean immediately dialed Zarius' office number to tell him the news.


	12. The Primogen Battle

Chapter 12: The Primogen Battle

Sean stared out the bay windows of the Admissions Office as rain joined the snow. From the college he could see the lights of his home town shining brightly, and when he concentrated he could just barely make out people in the streets. The tops of Mount Equinox and Anthony were obscured by clouds, blocking out the blinking signal lights of the broadcast towers.

The campus was almost completely devoid of students now except for the ones waiting for rides home. A month long Christmas break awaited the young men and women who had been slaving away at their desks and computers, struggling to make their parents hard earned money worth spending.

Sean remembered a time when college seemed like a real possibility. Back before his embrace and before he'd ever heard the word vampire or Kindred. Though he was never very good at math and he just barely pulled a D- or a C+ in his core classes, he had a love for the unusual and the untold. History was his favorite class. Whether it was Western Civilization or US history specifically, he enjoyed picking apart what he was told and trying to find the more complex truth hidden beneath the simplicity of the text books and lectures. He also had a love for drama, which of course, lead him to the Theater Arts class where he'd met Eric Peterson.

Thoughts of the old days made him think of Trent and Kyle, and it renewed the pain in Sean's heart. Their mortal families were still alive, and Sean knew that Trent at least kept tabs on his.

_That'll be my gift to you old friend, _Sean said, half praying. _I'll watch your family for as long as I live. _

The pain became easier to bear when Sean thought of how he'd honor Kyle's death. It wasn't like he could bring himself to steel MP3's and bootlegged movies for all eternity. Sean laughed at the thought of it, and at the memory of all the arguments he'd had with Kyle over the years about the morals of piracy. The laughter sparked even more fond memories with Trent and the laughs they brought made it infectious. Sean wasn't even aware of Zarius, standing in the door of the admissions office. When he did he stopped suddenly, embarrassed.

"Forgive me my Prince." He said, unable to suppress a few more chuckles. "I was just…well I was just…"

"Mourning," Zarius said with a sympathetic smile. "It comes in many forms."

"Yeah," Sean returned the smile. "I guess I was."

"May I join you?"

"Of course."

Zarius took a space next to Sean, fixing his gaze on the sleet.

"Edgar tells me he will know Amanda's location in a few hours," He said in a casual tone. "Of course the Malkavians want to know if they will be punished for Tanith's actions. I told them they wouldn't, but that they would have to select a new primogen."

"Another night in the unlife of the Kindred," Sean commented wryly.

"Yes." Zarius turned his attention to the young Gangrel. "I'll leave Amanda's fate in your hands. Whatever you choose to do I will respect."

Sean was silent for a moment. His eyes were focused on something now, and Zarius knew it was the way he thought about things.

"I wonder if I have any right to judge her fate," he said. "She's hurt the Brujah, the Ventrue, and the Assamites as well."

"Whatever you decide," Zarius repeated, ending the matter. He gave Sean a few minutes to think about it. "After this, I'd like you to take some time off."

Sean looked up at Zarius questioningly.

"You've worked hard for me for the last seven years," Zarius explained. "And you've come along way from the Kindred hunter James Reed embraced. I want you to take a few weeks off and rest yourself. Leave the state if you wish, or remain here at the college and make use of the library, see movies. Mary has offered to give you the room she was reserving for Trent at the ski lodge if you should decide to go there for some time."

A few moments had gone by before Sean finally nodded. After all, he couldn't disobey an order from the prince.

"She's somewhere in a town nearby," Edgar informed Sean a few hours before sunrise. "Hiding...near a lake."

Sean arranged a search party. The nearest lake in Vermont was Lake Paran in Shaftsburry, and it was closed for the season. Forty-three Gangrel knew the location well, and the entire state of Vermont would have gladly participated in the search. Bastian insisted that he and ten of his most powerful Brujah join them. Sean agreed that their speed would be helpful in dealing with an experienced Tremere.

"I won't lie to you," he told the gathered assembly who sat in the theater of the college. "Amanda is a skilled Tremere sorceress with many abilities and disciplines to call upon. Next to Zarius and Edgar she is the third oldest vampire living in Vermont. She will have the upper hand on some of us. But what from what little I know of the Tremere, I also know she has broken her oath to her clan, and her power is going to dwindle without their support. The Tzcimizse will also aide us with what spells they can summon on such short notice and the Ventrue will see to it that no other Tremere interferes with the blood hunt.

"Nevertheless, I want her alive. Though the will for vengeance is strong in all of us, the will for justice is stronger in me. Our clans have been wronged and Amanda will pay with her Final Death, but not before we exact retribution from the Tremere."

There was a chorus of agreement and cheers from the audience. Sean held up his hands to silence them.

Sean took to the air along with the few Gangrel who could also become birds. Those who could not fly took to the road in motorcycles, trucks, and RV's. The Gangrel on the police force were going to keep the human officers from getting interested in Lake Paran for a while.

The flight took about half an hour. Even in the snow the vampires could see the big red reflectors on the large sign that said, "Welcome to Lake Paran". Sean dived towards the lake, aiming for the farthest side from the beech. He and the other Gangrel scanned the empty campgrounds, the lake side cabins and the boat docks. His preternatural sight pierced the wetness of the falling snow and saw through the glass patio doors of the cabins. He saw vehicles in the driveways of some of the cabins, indicating that the owners were home. After an hour of searching he noticed "wolves" had taken to the ground to search from below. Sean swung around once to check the entrance of the lake, and noticed that some of the vehicles carrying Brujah were starting to arrive. The Brujah carried hunting rifles and handguns.

_I hope we can do this quietly,_ Sean said, almost relishing in the pure irony; Brujah and Gangrel working together for the first time and towards the same goal. They'd be talking about this for centuries to come.

Sean returned to his search, into the woods this time and searching the grounds. Past a certain point there was no sign of human life. Squirrels and raccoons slept soundly in their burrows and non migratory birds slept in warmth of the fir and pine trees. A fox darted across the slippery grounds, desperately hungry and searching for prey. Sean saw a small herd of deer stripping bark from trees and caring for their winter born fawns. Further on but fully aware of the deer herd was a male black bear. He followed the scent and tracks of the deer, knowing he would get something for his diligence.

How wild this place was, Sean thought. How amazing that Vermont was considered such a beautiful place year round, and yet people still got lost in these very woods and were never found until they died of exposure. Only the most skilled hunters dared to tread these woods and the mountains surrounding them, and even they were humbled by the awesome power of Mother Nature. Not even Kindred were above the untamed fury that was Vermont's wildlife. Something in it all stirred his primal urges making him enjoy this hunt as much as it was work. He had been sired in the woods near Beach Street in Bennington. The location was different but Vermont's soil was still there.

_No doubt about it_, he thought, ascending to the ground. _Vermont is Gangrel territory._

Sean assumed the wolf form and flew across the ground leaping over branches and dodging trees. Nature seemed to respond to his fury, and a fierce wind howled above the canopy. The rain and snow fell in full force and the ground was cold and muddy. Sean didn't care.

The scent of Kindred caught his palette. Not Gangrel nor Brujah…but Malkavian. Tanith! Sean followed his snout never losing his momentum as he turned in the direction of the scent. He followed it into a small clearing and slowed to a stealth like pace.

Sniffing the air tentatively he could sense the Malkavian's presence was strong. He stalked slowly into the clearing, searching with both his ears and eyes. A low growl resonated from his throat.

A flash of pale white fur leapt from a clump of bushes. Sean circled around to avoid getting bit and bared his fangs. He didn't waste time circling and instead lunged for a vulnerable spot. Tanith may have been insane as a human but she was a pure rabid killer as a wolf. She writhed on the ground and twisted to get free of Sean's jaws. She reached out with her only free paw and swiped at his belly managing to tear enough flesh to force him to let go. She then forced her head into his stomach knocking him onto his side.

Sean scrambled to his feet in time to prevent Tanith from locking onto his stomach. Instead she bit a chunk of fur on his left side and yanked hard. A few tufts of fur came out along with a sizeable chunk of flesh.

"Arrrrooooooooo!" He cried in pain. Blood splattered everywhere. He tried to retreat but Tanith lunged for his throat, throwing her weight on his back and forcing him onto his stomach.

Sean groaned in pain as the Malkavian gripped his throat. He knew would feel every painful second until torpor finally claimed him. He had to get up, he couldn't let it end like this. The blood rush was fast as he began to lose more of it. Suddenly…his eyes glowed.

Summoning strength from some other source Sean forced himself to his feet, shoving his body into Tanith's gut. She yelped, letting go of his throat and Sean spun around grabbing her exposed belly with his own jaws. Another tough yank and her intestines were now exposed.

"Arp! Arp!" She yipped.

Both Kindred returned to their human forms. Sean's clothes were wet and soiled but as he struggled to keep control of the frenzy he couldn't have cared less. The two primogen tried to put some distance between each other, crawling on their knees before turning around.

Tanith gripped her stomach with one arm and supported herself with the other. The scent of blood was stronger and a pool of it was forming between the two. Sean knew she was close to frenzying herself, and few survived a Malkavian frenzy. Tanith leaped, Sean got to held out his arms to defend.

POW! POW!

The first bullet whizzed past Sean. The second hit Tanith square in the shoulder. The phosphorous exploded burning Sean in friendly fire, as the Malkavian's body crashed into his, sending him back. Blood poured into his mouth and in his hunger he forgot where he was. He fed upon Tanith's blood, gaining strength from the powerful vampire.

A tingling sensation rippled throughout his body as the wounds healed with each draught. Time seemed to stop and the universe was little more than a space he was occupying as Sean drained the primogen's blood. He didn't even notice when someone came to his side, until that person ripped Tanith from his grip and threw her body across the clearing. Sean's frenzy ended and he got his bearings again. Bastian stood over him with the phosphorus rifle ready to fire again.

"Well, well, well," Bastian gloated, taking a step back and keeping the gun trained on Sean. "It appears as though you owe me a favor now. After all, you extracted quite a few from my clan."

Sean sat up and slowly itched his way back, glaring defiantly. He cursed himself for not knowing.

"I could kill you here and now and blame it on Tanith. But what good would that do us?"

"That's why you came out here," Sean said, accusingly. "You were hoping to have a crack at me."

"Don't be so selfish. It had nothing to do with you specifically. I lost Brujah helping your clan with your problems, and now the lion is getting tired of lying down with the lamb."

"This isn't about clan rivalry Bastian. Why can't we just settle this bullshit once and for all?"

"I'm perfectly willing to let this slide, "Bastian said. "But for my help to the Gangrel, I want something from you."

Before Sean could respond something leapt over his head. A flash of robes and blond hair slammed Bastian to the ground. Amanda then stood up and turned to Sean, pulling a knife from a sheath beneath her clothes. Bastian slammed the butt of the rifle into her back, causing her to lose balance. Sean got to his feet and rammed Amanda head first, taking her by surprise and pushing her off of Bastian. His hands were full with keeping one arm from stabbing him and the other from hitting him. Strangely enough, this all reminded him of the knight he had been sired.

Amanda brought her foot up, kicking him in the groin. Sean lost his grip, dropping to his knees as she got ready to impale him. Bastian had all ready got to his feet and was ready to take aim. She quickly dropped the knife and pulled the rifle from his hands with telekinesis. She turned it on Bastian before he could act.

"And I thought all Brujah were supposed to be fast," She chided.

Sean grabbed the knife, and ignoring the pain in his groin, drove it into her stomach. Amanda lost her grip on the rifle as he pulled it out and pressed it to the heart.

"That was for the girl you ordered killed." Sean took another swipe at her arms, forcing her to drop the rifle all together. "That was for all the Gangrel you killed including Kyle." Sean pulled the knife back and held her with his free arm. He looked her straight in the eye as he said his final piece. "And this one's for Trent." Then, he plunged the knife into her heart, paralyzing her body.

Sean let her drop to the ground. Gangrel were appearing from the woods along with Brujah.

"Take her back to Bennington," Sean ordered them. "Don't revive her yet, but give her enough blood to keep her from torpor."

He turned to Bastian, who was still standing dead in his tracks. The Gangrel easily outnumbered the Brujah, and Sean waited while Bastian considered this.

"That's about even." He said at last. "Consider me not telling Zarius about this a Kwanza present."

Bastian lowered his head in submission. Outwardly he was as humble as a defeated man could get. Inwardly he was burning with the same rage that had fueled Sean's anger the night before.

Lazarus was mildly irritated. The Gangrel had gotten to Amanda before he could and now she was dangling from the roof of Zarius' caves no doubt. It required him to forget the plan of extraction, and take a more diplomatic approach.

So Lazarus stood before the revamped conclave. They were back at the old building in Old Bennington. Sean sat in his usual spot to the right of Zarius. Mary and Eric were at his left. Edgar, Christopher, Bastian and Ivan sat in their places. The Malkavians had not yet chosen a new primogen so they had no representation at this table, and the Tremere were currently suspended from the conclave. To make things fair, Zarius would vote for the Malkavian by proxy.

"There has been much loss," Zarius began. "The lives of many Kindred have ended this past week. Lazarus, Prince of the city of Portland, Maine has come before us to request the release of our prisoner. Lazarus?"

Lazarus stood before the table, flanked only by his bodyguards. He addressed the table and made a gesture of respect to Zarius.

"Amanda Capron was acting on her own agenda. Her actions were not supported by the motherhouse, and will result in her execution when the time has come. Not only has Amanda abused her position as primogen, endangering all Kindred by breaking the laws of the masquerade, but she has also committed crimes against house Tremere. She has misguided and brought our initiates to harm and she has endangered the integrity of the clan before all of you. I ask of you to allow me the possession of Amanda's body, that I may revive her and see that she is properly punished for the benefit of our interests as well as your own. In return for this gesture I am authorized by the motherhouse to offer you retribution."

Lazarus bowed to show respect to Zarius again and stepped back.

Zarius looked to Sean. "Sean, since I have left Amanda's fate in your hands, I leave the decision to you."

Sean nodded and stood up.

"These are our conditions." Sean said. "In return for handing Amanda over to you, all Tremere must leave Vermont. For one whole century, or until our Prince deems otherwise, no Tremere may enter or dwell within the state of Vermont."

Lazarus studied the young Gangrel. He was a bold one for certain, a living abomination to the masquerade. Every bit as insolent as others described him.

_I will take great pleasure in one day judging your fate,_ he thought to himself. _If you and I should ever cross paths childe…_

"Lazarus." Zarius said. "Are these conditions acceptable to you?"

"They are reasonable enough," Lazarus replied, masking his contempt. "Very well. I will personally see that the Tremere are removed from Vermont and assigned elsewhere."

"Then I will give you exactly a week to carry out this task," Zarius announced. "If there is no further business, I dismiss this conclave."

Sunlight glared off the fifteen to twenty vehicles parked outside the McCarthy family's property

Sean stood at the far end of the field, watching from a distance as the mortal members of the McCarthy family mourned the loss of their child. Trent's ashes were being scattered across the field where he had grown up. Mary watched from her own vantage point, careful not to be noticed.

When the ashes were spread out and the family had recited the Lord's Prayer, they dispersed. Sean and the rest of the vampires approached the site of the ceremony. Mary her husband Richard, and their childer were there along with other Ventrue who had come to pay their respects. Sean and the Gangrel who knew Trent well also came, having mourned the loss of Kyle the week before. The Rabid Monks were the only Toreadors present. Zarius and a few Nosferatu also came and stood silently in the shadows while Mary gave her eulogy.

When she was finished others got up to say a few kind words on Trent's behalf. Sean spoke quietly to Mary.

"I think I'll take you up on your offer…for the lodge I mean."

"You can come up anytime. I'll let the desk attendants know to expect you."

Sean looked out at the final resting place of one of his closest friends. "It won't be until the Saturday before Christmas though. I need to get away from…all this, at least for a week."

Mary threw her arms around Sean. Sean welcomed the embrace and cried.

Thank you all for sticking this out with me. I'll be starting Part Two after the weekend.


End file.
